Hot Spring BB 02(2/7)

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

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

There is a bridge over the creek,

The cicadas on the trees and the frogs in  

The grass that just sticks its head out,

Watching the outside world carefully,

; Naughty blowing little bubbles,

into the stream,

Bend it now and then,

The flowers are fragrant, the petals are fluttering,

sometimes lift it up,

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The shimmering light of fireflies shuttled through the grass.

The flowers follow the breeze,

attracted a dazzling group of butterflies,

danced lightly,

As if the earth was breathing rhythmically,

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