In the meadow

In the meadow
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Forests are more visible in the distance,
The blue heavens,
Visible and blacker
On a plowed field,
And children's voiced
Above the meadow of voice.
Spring goes by side,
But where is she herself?
Chu, you hear a sonorous voice,
Is not this spring?
No, it's ringing, thin
A wave ripples in the stream ...