Watching the outside world carefully,
spring,
Can' t tell which is a flower and which is a butterfly
There is a bridge over the creek,
Compose a three-dimensional animation that outlines the soul,
Arouse circles of ripples,
Like the melody of musical notes beating on Geum-hyun,
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,
Glittering in the faint starlight,
The shimmering light of fireflies shuttled through the grass.
Underwater small fish swaying gracefully,
The grass that just sticks its head out,
Bend it now and then,
Room equipment of 147 Hot
The reeds sway in the evening wind,
A breeze blows,
Breathing in the fresh air with your mouth open,
into the stream,
Naughty blowing little bubbles,
sometimes lift it up,
water waves on the creek,
The splash of the creek and the fine grain of sand,
Occasionally there are fish jumping out of the water,
Knead out some fine murmurs,
As if the earth was breathing rhythmically,
The flowers follow the breeze,
The cicadas on the trees and the frogs in the lotus pond,
lush water plants,
attracted a dazzling group of butterflies,
The mirror-like surface of the water undulates,
Turned over and fell into the water again,
The fish swam to the surface in groups,
danced lightly,
The flowers are fragrant, the petals are fluttering,