Nature's Child

The hot summer day, burning red with the evening sun

Slowly resting in the depths of the night.

Surrounded by bamboo trees, the sky is full of stars.

At this moment I have this quiet night.

I forget the hustle and bustle of the world.

The morning light is spilling through the pine forest, a golden yellow.

The green and white flowers of the sesame seeds are lined with children.

The tea trees are new, the dew is still frosty.

The rice paddies look out to the mountains.

I don't know what the world is on the other side of the mountain.

The bamboo stands tall, the trees are in shadow.

Cuckoos and cicadas sing tirelessly.

The children are swinging on the rocking bed.

The forest is filled with the smoke of drinking, and the fragrance of bamboo rice is overflowing.

The self-sufficiency of human beings and their perfection are above the earth.

There are small buildings in the village with yellowing books.

There is the secret hut, where the simple door continues forever.

There is the Summerhill School, the faith of the seeds.

There are the words of Rousseau and the teachings of Confucius.

All this originally originated in the village.

The countryside is a big library, a long campus.

The children walk around the yellow oxen three and five, tread on the black mud under the lotus rosettes

All the way to the eternal path of the heart.