Upon the wet hills,

The birds are singing with the-

Great rushing river.

The forest is silent,

But in the distance a dog-

barks in the village.

Far in the grey dust,

The round hills are sitting on,

The long grassy plains.

Colourful dress in-

The middle of the field,

The sun shines brightly.

A flash of brown,

A deer runs past quickly,

Followed by others.

The moon shines high up,

The cool air rushes past me,

Bats fly past swiftly.

The heat beats down hard,

No breath of wind is stirring,

It is hot season.

Laughter is in the-

Air, merriment is here,

Joy comes to them all.

Sunrise on the mount,

Rays of gold break through the night,

It is the morning.