Softly now the stream is flowing, Under shoots and roots of trees,
It cares not where now it is going,
It reaches up to touch the breeze.
The wind is whistling through the green leaves,
Quietly it sings its tune,
It brushes past the budding flowers,
Hoping they will bloom full soon.
The flower stretches out its petals,
Basking in the sun's bright rays,
It has been a long, cold winter,
But now spring's glory is ablaze.
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