The little girl
Below a window of the Church was a grave yard fully covered with green medows, on which was sitting a little girl. She looked up at the sky while singing with one of her little hand pointing to a feather-like colorful cloud floating above her head.The sunlight suddenly became extremely shining, shedding on her lustering hair, reflecting, hard to say what color it was, puce or black. She was looking up at the colorful cloud with rapture, so her monderful song or mutter seemed exlusively for it. She did not aware that I was standing up and walking toward her. In the high blue sky above her was a lark with opening wings flying toward the colorful cloud, singing that looked competing with her. I gently walked to the girl of smooth forehead and complexion so gorgeous under sunlight. Her long black eyelashes bending backward set off eyes with alternating blue and violet color. Her long eyelashes and eyebrows and hair with sleek luster, like threads behind her delicate neck, were fluttering gently in the sunlight. I did not immediately catch all of these features for my attension focused on her bright eyes that were gazing at me. I stood there and watched her in silence long enough to appreciate the rest part of her face especially the delicate and chubby mouth. The image in front of my eyes seemed more beautiful than that I saw in my dream. But it was the expression in her eyes rather than her beauty that rapturized me.
