The poems describing the singing of birds and the fragrance of flowers are:

1. When people are idle, the osmanthus flowers fall, and the night is quiet and the spring mountains are empty. The moonrise scares the mountain birds, and they sing in the spring stream. ——Wang Wei's "Birdsong Stream"

Translation: There are few people moving, only the sweet-scented osmanthus falls silently, and the valley is quiet and empty at night in spring. The bright moon rises and shines brightly, startling the birds in the mountains, flying high and chirping in the spring stream from time to time.

2. In several places, early orioles compete for warmth in the trees, while new swallows peck at the spring mud. The random flowers are gradually charming the eyes, and only Asakusa has no horse hooves. ——Bai Juyi's "Spring Journey to Qiantang Lake"

Translation: A few early orioles are vying to roost in the warm trees facing the sun, and the newly arrived swallows are busy building nests and carrying mud. The wildflowers are dazzling when they are blooming, and the spring grass has just barely covered the horses' hooves before it grows tall.

3. The spring breeze brings out the plum blossoms in the garden first, and the cherry, apricot, and pear flowers bloom one after another. The shepherd's purse and elm pods are deep in the village, and the spring breeze is coming for me. ——Bai Juyi's "Spring Breeze"

Translation: The spring breeze blows, first the plum blossoms in the garden bloom, and then the cherry blossoms, apricot blossoms, peach blossoms, and pear blossoms all bloom one after another. Even the shepherd's purse beside the tree and the elm pods growing in the deep village seem to say, the spring breeze is blowing for me.

4. Hundreds of chirps and thousands of sounds move at will, and the mountain flowers are red and purple, and the trees are high and low. Then I realized that listening to the lock in the golden cage was not as good as the free cry in the forest. ——Ouyang Xiu's "Thrush"

Translation: When I came to the woods, I saw the thrushes flying freely on the branches full of red and purple mountain flowers, and heard them flying high and low in the trees. The bird sang happily to his heart's content, and he couldn't help but sigh: If they were locked up, even in a precious birdcage, they would not be able to sing such a beautiful song.

Because freedom is a prerequisite for a happy life. Birds are like this, aren't people the same?

5. The grass on the Suxi Pavilion is long, who leans against the east wind. The swallows do not return, it is late in spring, and the apricot blossoms are cold in the misty rain. ——Dai Shulun's "Suxi Pavilion"

Translation: Looking from the Suxi Pavilion, the green grass is endless. Who is singing the twelve songs of Langan in the east wind? The swallows have not yet returned to their old nests, but the beautiful spring scenery is almost over. It is misty and rainy on the water and shore, and the apricot blossoms feel chilly in the rain.