"Ten thousand flowers are yet to bloom,
the swallows shivered, seeing the reluctant snow."
In an unknown place, the spring had taken its first steps into the world. The chilly air and snowy peaks had lost the allure of winter and the wildflowers on one side of the pathway had resurrected from the long slumber. On the other side of the rocky and sandy pathway, there was a stream that went along with it for a few miles.
One could see a man riding a donkey on this path coming out of the mountains. He had long black hairs which fluttered in the morning wind and deep black eyes. With sword-like eyebrows, coupled with the red tinge on his smooth skin, saying he looked handsome would have been an understatement. One could see a torn old bag hanging down on one side of the donkey and on the other side there was a long cyan-colored parasol. From time to time, the young man had been tracing the parasol's lining as he sang the songs looking at the sky.
