On a fine day, I seek the fragrance of flowers by the Si River, and the scenery is endless, all new at once.
Easily recognize the face of the east wind, a thousand reds and a thousand purples are always spring.
The red and purple flowers have turned to dust, and the summer is new in the sound of the cuckoo.
The mulberry and hemp along the road are endless, and I realize that I am a peaceful person.
The stone path leading to the cold mountain is steep, and there are houses where the white clouds rise.
Stop and sit in the evening of the maple forest, the frosty leaves are redder than the flowers in February.