The fields are chill. The sparse rain has stopped. The colors of Spring teem on every side. With leaping fish, the blue pond is full. With singing thrushes, the green
Hey, FADED daffodil, FLOATING DOWN THE RIVER TO TIENOUAN! IF YOU SEE THERE A YOUNG GIRL DREAMING, UNDER A CINNAMON TREE which HAS BLOSSOMED TWICE SINCE WE EMBRACED, TELL HER
