It was midsummer and July. The sun was shining and the wind seemed to be on fire. The lotus flowers in the courtyard and pond were all wilting in the sun.
Is there none to carry your banner before you, and will not the night be on fire with your red torch-lights, O Death, my Death?
As soon as I entered the orchard, I saw the red apple trees. Looking from afar, they seemed to be on fire. As I approached, the apples looked like little girls'shy faces.
As soon as the sun came out, the ground seemed to be on fire. The weather was so hot as if a spark would cause an explosion.
"Don" t worry, dear. All the cigarettes will be on fire sooner or later. "he said with a smile."
