In spring, at dusk, where petals caress the car,

With sunset hues, a silent bud there lies,

Beneath the sky, where day turns into star,

A scene so fair, like Impressionist’s surprise.

In summer’s blow, where cries the sunset glow,

The flow beneath the violet sun is laid,

And children’s laughter merges with the rainbow,

Where students rise from slumber, classroom-claimed.

In early autumn, at twilight’s first gentle gleam,

Where falling maples peeping beneath the crimson dream,

A scarlet koi of luck and wealth that shall teem,

In the quiet hues of dusk’s tenderest gleam.

In winter’s clutch, where snow blankets the scene,

And northern winds announce the cold has been,

The garden sleeps beneath a blanket of sheen,

A hush falls deep, as nature’s canvas is clean.

By: Zhao Qinghua

Editor: Qin Mian