You are cuter and gentler than summer;

The wind destroyed the beauty of Mayflower,

Summer keeps rushing away.

The eyes of heaven are sometimes too hot,

The golden face is often covered with gloomy clouds;

All the bright colors have faded,

The process is so pale;

But you are like an eternal summer,

All good things will never change;

Even death dare not be arrogant to you,

Because you will live forever in immortal poems.

As long as the world is alive,

You will always be with this poem.