Gifts
My dream is the dream of the pond
Survival not only mapping the sky
To the surrounding willows and Chinese milk vetch
I learned to clean and it
Edge of the vein toward my roots
I am not sad at wither
I have expressed their
I got life
My joy is the joy of the sun
Short, but left the creation of immortal
In the eyes in children
Kindled a small fire gold
Germ in the seed
Singing songs of green
I am simple and rich
I deeply
My sorrow is the sorrow of migratory birds
Only to understand the love of spring
To endure all hardships and failures
Never fly a warm, bright future
Ah, bloody wings
Write a line full of poetry
All spiritual depth
Access to all years
All my feelings
Are a gift of land