Hot Spring BB 02(2/7)

The grass that just sticks its head out,

As if the earth was breathing rhythmically,

Can't tell which is a flower and which is a butterfly

There is a bridge over the creek,

into the stream,

sometimes lift it up,

Watching the outside world carefully,

danced lightly,

The flowers follow the breeze,

attracted a dazzling group of butterflies,

; Naughty blowing little bubbles,

Bend it now and then,

The flowers are fragrant, the petals are fluttering,

The wind caressed all kinds of flowers and plants by the stream,

The long branches on the side of the bridge hang in a string,

The cicadas on the trees and the frogs in  

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The shimmering light of fireflies shuttled through the grass.