In summer, when the river is about to dawn
In the morning mist, then it gleams again.
To the shallow side, the carps gather to spawn
And the leaves drop the dews on the side of the lane.
When the roses wither away on the yard
The Sharon\'s roses are here and there.
When they\'re waving with the wind, an alfresco bard
Cannot but recite the poems to the air.
They bloom on dike along the riverside,
And dancing and singing with the birds in the woods.
When the sun rising, they stretch on the boughs at hillside
The early bird only knows the moods.
They ‘ve been bloomed for a long time this land,
On where our fathers had been lived with this river,
And in the Sharon\'s roses, our sons will stand
Up in the morn and graze the flowing of this river.