Through the trees, can feel the breeze,
of gentle flapping of butterfly's wings,
Its a sight that every child should see,
the beauty of the wonder and discover.

Timely old owls that sound you the hoot,
as gentle as a master playing of a flute.
And when the eagles soar like demons,
the kids are amazed, unlike priest's sermon.

The river flows but its the fountain,
wraps the eyes of a child's like beacon,
the most beautiful of all of nature,
they imagine treasure that's sunken.

Through the trees to mother's embrace,
two little girls remember path they traced.
Sweetly hugged around their waists,
the soft saints of a mountain's grace