It is imagined as a woman who came out of an ancient ink painting,
Pieces of green in different shades,
at a glance,
It seems like a slim lady' s skirt is swaying,
Beneath the dense leaves is a babbling stream of water,
The houses in the distance are misty and smoky,
As if singing the symphony of spring,
looming, smoky,
The stream is microwaved and crystal clear,
zigzag lotus pond,
The moonlight on the lotus pond is like flowing water,
The leaves are close to each other side by side,
But it is ice muscle and jade bone, fresh and dusty,
like a mirage,
There is a small stream beside the lotus pond,
Quietly drains on this whole leaf,'
full of connected dense green leaves,
The trees near and far surround the lotus pond,
The wind caressed all kinds of flowers and plants by the stream,
The spring breeze blows slowly,
Underwater small fish swaying gracefully,
With a touch of sadness, neither charming nor glamorous,
The sound of rushing water is clear and pleasant,
Like patches of green misty ocean,
Sometimes the flowers and plants are gently raised,
The mountains are rolling up and down,
You can also clearly distinguish the toothed tree shadows and the abrupt rocks...
There are wisps of fragrance flowing,
The dim moonlight shone through the tree cracks,
A slight cool breeze moves slowly,
like a paradise on earth,
A frown and a smile are all soul-stirring,
Sometimes I bend the flowers and plants gently,
Naughty blowing little bubbles,
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