Let's embrace the virtues of our Nature
And sing of what is beautiful and real.
Fathers and mothers knew of this so pure.
It struck me at birth that this is how I feel.
When the foam waves crash against the shore,
On which the sand makes a perfect glass floor,
The footprints of the seagull disappear.
Perhaps another day it won't get near.
Between my footsteps, I hear crickets loud.
Ahead of me, the buzzing of the bee cloud.
And the warm, summer breeze flows over my face
As the little armies underneath race.
Clear heavens, patched white mountains flowing free,
Even gray and dark, I don't mind to see.
Rain could be crystals or ice or morning dew.
In the end, it adds up to something new.
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