My friends playing music in the tent,

I’m reading under a big tree,

Reading a poem by Charlotte Mew,

A poem talked about her sadness when

Someone cut down trees in the spring,

Ironically, now, I’m sitting here,

Back on a big trunk,

Sunlight shine on me from my right side,

White moon accompany with me in the big blue sky…

I wish I were a painter, then

I could use my brush pencil

Describe what I saw around me;

I wish I were a poet like Charlotte Mew, then

I could write down a poem,

Paraphrase this beautiful morning in a passionate way,

Share my happy feelings with her,

Wipe off her sadness…

But all I can do is to