The bright moon leaves the branches startled by magpies, and the breeze sings the cicadas in the middle of the night.
The fragrance of rice flowers tells of a good harvest, and the sound of frogs sounds.
There are seven or eight stars in the sky, two or three points of rain in front of the mountain.
In the old days, by the forest of Maodian Society, I suddenly saw a bridge over a stream when the road turned.