Fresh green in the valley; White blossoms on the meadow, The low call of the cuckoo Floats through the rainy mist.No villagers are idle In the months of spring; They transplant the rice seedlings...
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Fresh green in the valley; White blossoms on the meadow, The low call of the cuckoo Floats through the rainy mist.No villagers are idle In the months of spring; They transplant the rice seedlings...