Ancient poems suitable for reciting

Fire in July, hot summer. At the foot of the mountain, a winding stream flows quietly over the edge of the village. Occasionally, a few pebbles turn in the water, making a pleasant jingle. Attracted several swallows to shuttle back and forth on the water. After crossing the village, the stream disappeared into the dense forest. Sunlight shines on the water through the cracks in the leaves. It was hot, and the birds in the Woods put away their voices early and hid in the depths of the Woods. Only a few cicadas are there, singing tirelessly.