I am going on the pathamong fields.The clear friendly skysmiles to meand I inhale the fragranceof the buckwheat.

I love you, tiny wonderful flower of the arid land.You grow among thorns.The wind scorches youand the heat of the sun is your torment.But you are alive in spite of everythingbecause your aspirations to live nothing can overcome!

Flowers are beauties of the world.They are little joys of earththat make our lives more bright.