Green again, my grove.
Ants and flying insects in the Woods
These humble lives come with spring.
Under the soil, I heard the sound of earthworm crawling.
Knock down the mud-sealed door with a soft head
I saw a flock of goats on the grass in the grove.
Waving his long beard and bleating.
Shook my youth and soul.
A black goat came to me leisurely.
Tears of happiness hung on his face.