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