刘愚拙
The stream is a boat in spring.
Ice is the first group of guests to take.
They squeeze cheerfully.
The stream is a cloth of silk in spring.
Little swallows cast their shadows on it.
And their wings cut back and forth like scissors.
The stream is a mirror in spring.
The willows are making up themselves.
When the wind blows, their green hair waves softly.
The stream is a musician in spring.
Listen! Its singing, tinkle, tinkle ...
The peach pedals are dancing with this sweet song.