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