At dusk, the songs of hawthorn trees rippled gently on the water. In the twilight, the factory lights are flashing, the train is running at a high speed and the windows are brightly lit. Two young people are waiting for me at the next stage of the hawthorn tree. When the loud whistle just stopped, I walked along the path to the tree. Under the dense hawthorn tree, the breeze kept blowing. The hair dryer messed up the hair of the young spinner and blacksmith. Ah, the dense hawthorn tree, the blooming hawthorn tree, why are you sad? Music ... how close we are when we meet in the workshop during the day, but we are silent when we meet at night. The stars in the summer night look at them quietly, but don't tell me who is amiable. Wild geese and songs in autumn have disappeared in the distance, and the earth is covered with frost. But on this rugged mountain road, the three of us arrived. Dear hawthorn tree, please tell me. Dear hawthorn tree, please tell me.