Washing Brook Sand

Spring sunshine is with vividly light on Cold Food Day,

Out of the censer residual incenses' smokes curl lazily.

My dream hid in U-shaped pillow with the hair inlay.

Kids playedgrass-picking-up game, no sea swallows fly,

River-plums withered, catkins continuously float in the sky.

The lingering drizzle wetted the swing at the twilight.