There are spiderwebs among the berries,
The stems of the supple vines are still thin,
Like little ice floes, little ice floes,
In the gleaming water of the sky-blue river,
    clouds swim.

The sun is in the sly. The sun brightly shines.
Go whisper to the wave what's amiss.
Oh, it will certainly reply,
and perhaps it will give you a kiss.