Walking on the forest path,

The leaves of the elm tree are waving in the wind,

Umbrellas formed by climbing branches,

It was a natural pergola.

Hide underneath,

There's a coolness,

A breeze blows,

Trees large and small,

contains wild flowers and weeds under the trees,

They all nodded their heads,

Swinging the branches,

Like a wave,

Wave after wave,

Radiating a turquoise glow,

The leaves of the leaf are dark green,

The backlit leaves are light green,

If you don't observe carefully,

It's hard to find,

Nature's wonders.

Occasionally, I can hear a few crisp bird calls,

I think

It's the communication between the tree and the bird,

They use their own language,

Dress up your own world.

walked a few steps,

I saw two gray birds in pairs,

In this woods,

It's all this kind of bird,

The only bird,

I guess here,

It's their own home.

In the crevices of the jungle,

The sun shines little by little,

It's a swirling halo,

With the fluttering of branches and leaves,

Slowly changing and flying,

Sometimes it's bigger, sometimes it's smaller,

Eventually, it slowly vanished.

The sun that sinks in the west,

There's not so much heat,

If there is a little breeze,

It's a rare comfort,

If you say where is the best?

I think it's this touch of green in the world.

Chapter 135 of "Ma Ping'an Poems": That touch of green is hitting in your hand, please wait a moment,

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