It is imagined as a woman who came out of an ancient ink painting,

The mountains are rolling up and down,

The spring breeze blows slowly,

at a glance,

Underwater small fish swaying gracefully,

The sound of rushing water is clear and pleasant,

But it is ice muscle and jade bone, fresh and dusty,

The wind caressed all kinds of flowers and plants by the stream,

There is a small stream beside the lotus pond,

The leaves are close to each other side by side,

With a touch of sadness, neither charming nor glamorous,

Pieces of green in different shades,

full of connected dense green leaves,

The moonlight on the lotus pond is like flowing water,

As if singing the symphony of spring,

A slight cool breeze moves slowly,

Sometimes I bend the flowers and plants gently,

It seems like a slim lady's skirt is swaying,

There are wisps of fragrance flowing,

The houses in the distance are misty and smoky,

Quietly drains on this whole leaf,'

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You can also clearly distinguish the toothed tree shadows and the abrupt rocks...

The trees near and far surround the lotus pond,

zigzag lotus pond,

Naughty blowing little bubbles,

Like patches of green misty ocean,

The stream is microwaved and crystal clear,

like a mirage,

looming, smoky,

Sometimes the fl

g mountain scene,

Beneath the dense leaves is a babbling stream of water,

The dim moonlight shone through the tree cracks,

A frown and a smile are all soul-stirring,

like a paradise on earth,