Watching Over the Spring in Its Eyes
Spring has arrived, and my mood has become clearer in the warm sunshine. Let us accompany the cheerful stream, the reviving foliage, and the southward-migrating wild geese to stage another round of springtime glory.
The spring sunshine is radiant and warm, bathing the mountains and rivers. The Tibetan Plateau has awakened, the azure birds are singing, and the young grass is beginning to stir. The spring breeze is no longer biting, but gentle, swaying gracefully and wonderfully wherever it goes.
The flowers in February seem to bloom as soon as the wind moves. Spring always makes people think of peach blossoms. Peach blossoms always give people hope, warmth, and a sense of comfort, vibrant and not coquettish, like love, like heart, life's beauty is also like that.
The early spring in the north is poetic because of the snow, and beautiful. That pristine white, and the countless flying fluff, is an everlasting intoxication in the eyes and heart. The snow falls silently, while a wonderful beauty embraces the earth, permeating the sea of hearts. That vitality is the warmth and color of the season.
The chilly early spring afternoon is warmed by the midday sun, and the late afternoon wind still brings a little cold. Quietly sitting by the window, you can only hear the branches of the trees rustling, and it seems that spring would not be spring without the wind, just like the sky without clouds would not be the sky.
In February, the spring wind is like a pair of scissors, and the river is already green with willow color. The spring breeze awakens the sleeping mountains and rivers, turning the earth green, so the swallows peck at new mud, and the streams are joyful, and hardworking people begin to farm. Beauty is linked to spring hand in hand…
The chilly early spring afternoon is warmed by the midday sun, and the late afternoon wind still brings a little cold. Quietly sitting by the window, you can only hear the branches of the trees rustling, and it seems that spring would not be spring without the wind, just like the sky without clouds would not be the sky.
I use gentle words to pluck a string of a stream, bloom a brilliant smile, listen to the expectations in the spring melody, warm and cherish this world, thus, be a bright and flower-like woman.
Fold fragrant flowers, brew a quiet moment. Each word is like a string, each sentence is like a song, a delicate poem of pale yellow longing. Deep in the years, the heart melody is softly played, letting the heart fragrance drift across the sea of hearts.
Listen, the clear stream flows, the lotus-colored love, fragrant of time, also softened the past obsession. In the days of quiet companionship, dreams remain clear as before, turning back, in the corners of time, there is not nowhere but a spring of hearts.
