Hot Spring BB 02(2/7)

The cicadas on the trees and the frogs in  

; Naughty blowing little bubbles,

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

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

sometimes lift it up,

The shimmering light of fireflies shuttled through the grass.

into the stream,

danced lightly,

The flowers follow the breeze,

Bend it now and then,

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

There is a bridge over the creek,

Watching the outside world carefully,

The grass that just sticks its head out,

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attracted a dazzling group of butterflies,

The flowers are fragrant, the petals are fluttering,

As if the earth was breathing rhythmically,