A poem about spring (with the first echo)

At the door of spring

Under the door of spring,

Hidden in the yellow grass buds,

Hide the green shoots of young trees,

Hiding pink buds.

Here comes the bird,

Singing a happy song.

The grass bud heard it,

Stick your head out of the door;

The little tree bud heard it,

Reach out from under the door;

Beibei heard it,

Show red cheeks.

They pushed away together.

The door of spring.