Lyricist Ye Xingsen, a grassroots writer in Anyuan rural area
29 Summer was coming. It was nighttime at home. Night fell.

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Summer was coming.

It was nighttime at home.

Night fell.

In the fields near their home.

He could hear the sounds of animals everywhere.

Frogs, grasshoppers, cockroaches, and so on.

It was like a performance.

The symphony from the concert.

From time to time, there would be the sound of birds chirping.

It entered my ears.

At this time of the year.

It was the time when everything was revived.

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