Out by the clean blue river
the pale full moon hums a song
Lily buds by the woods keep its vigil
forlorn and crestfallen, gaily sings.
The sky is drowsy with beaks and feathers of mist
Little nightingales chirp queerly on the sycamore trees.
Hibiscus petals doze soundly, the cackling birds hobble.

The white, epicene faces peep in riveting eyes
Dancing with milk-white limbs and garnet cheeks
Brown eyes with ample warm, precious as fairy gold.
The babyish little birdvoices,
who sing and pirouette out innocence;
Melodic rhythm of the flowing river  
seething out the blithe without worries.
Cold clouds and rabbits like fluff honey
Little stars tonight will be candies.