The wind said that July has been restless on the earth for a long time. ...
Restless wheat fields and mountains.
Restless poultry and rivers
When the wheat field is hot all summer, sweat is released.
The heat in the mountains made the dance lose its vitality.
When poultry are eager to get rid of their previous activities.
The silent river has lost the notes of passion.
The wind said, I'm coming
I will call on you in July.
I'm coming. I'll play hardball
It's loud.
My open mind is broad and heavy.
The notes I spit out are bright and soft
I'm coming.
The sun is no longer arrogant.
Because rain will follow.
You can squint when I come.
Don't choose silence.
Don't wrap yourself up and curl up in a ball.
Don't blame me for being cold and speechless.
The wind said: I am the messenger to reconcile your will.
I am a guest in July.
Brought you the baptism of God.
Why not open your eyes?
Let me soothe your heart?
Why not open your arms?
Let me forge your chest muscles?
Follow me up the hill and overlook the earth.
Hold me, I ran to the wheat field to listen to Shan Ye.
Let's race with poultry.
Let's catch up with that river.
The wind said, I have arrived, and my home is not far away.