Seek the lyrics of Jiadan Li's Grain Rain.

The morning breeze and drizzle are soft, healthy magpies set foot early, and flowers and trees contain nectar. Isn't this a good season? It's the day of 1911, and it's my favorite solar term. I happened to meet you. That year, there were no catkins flying on the night of the cuckoo. Fortunately, I found my own life. The willow spring tide is mottled with green fields, and several plants are slightly purple. I found a walk before and after the flowers, whose heart you poured out with a sigh, and the peony vomited.