Inscription--

Now in May,

Dreamy and colorful,

A moment of panic is lost in the fragrant flowers,,

And the ears of wheat in the fields in May,

Constantly shaking my memory.

Text/Clear

Ridges of wheat fields,

The tall leaves chase connected,

Waves of green can't always be like water,

Run unrestrained to the mountain stream.

The collision of coming and going under the breeze,

It is still surrounded by four walls.

On the other side of the sky, the sunset is crimson,

I want to use the last afterglow,

Hold back their clamour,

Soothe their confusion.

Green wheat fields,

Like a person's thoughts are connected into a piece.

How many times have I wandered in the fields,

Look at the red face of the sunset.

The breeze gently blows on your face,

Who weaves this warm picture?

The moment you hold your hand,

Infused with a lifetime of emotion.

Again

Standing under the shy and beautiful twilight,

The handle is relatively needless to say,

Watch the scattered birds fly,

Watch the tired clouds cross the mountains.

Sniff this dense green,

I can't bear to say goodbye.

The blue sky of all my things,

Filled with your name,

The edge of the Moon Lake,

Remember your smile.

No matter how many teenagers there are,

Youth is gone,

deliberately forgetting the scale of distance,

I can't hide the dream.

Found the bag of ears of wheat,

Filled with the tenderness of the house,

Walk on the flower-covered road......

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