It seems the sky has never been bluer,
As I stroll the lovely familiar path;
And bird trills have never been truer,
Than in hazy dawn's golden aftermath.
The clouds float lazy above the treetops,
As the river makes its slow motion tour,
Long admired from houses on the hilltops,
Scintillating sun gleams on waters pure.
As the path winds a long way in the breeze,
That's playful in its travels to nowhere,
I'm filled with the pleasantest memories,
As gorgeous butterflies dance in midair!
The vibrant day causes spirits to play,
Which is their favored pastime anyway.