t wind,
It is imagined as a woman who came out of an ancient ink painting,
It seems like a slim lady' s skirt is swaying,
There is a small stream beside the lotus pond,
A slight cool breeze moves slowly,
The spring breeze blows slowly,
Showing a winding mountain scene,
looming, smoky,
The dim moonlight shone through the tree cracks,
zigzag lotus pond,
like a paradise on earth,
The stream is microwaved and crystal clear,
You can also clearly distinguish the toothed tree shadows and the abrupt rocks...
Like patches of green misty ocean,
But it is ice muscle and jade bone, fresh and dusty,
As if singing the symphony of spring,
With a touch of sadness, neither charming nor glamorous,
The moonlight on the lotus pond is like flowing water,
There are wisps of fragrance flowing,
like a mirage,
Pieces of green in different shades,
Naughty blowing little bubble
at a glance,
Quietly drains on this whole leaf,'
Beneath the dense leaves is a babbling stream of water,
Music water dance in the fountain,
A frown and a smile are all soul-stirring,
The sound of rushing water is clear and pleasant,
The trees near and far surround the lotus pond,
The houses in the distance are misty and smoky,
The leaves are close to each other side by side,
full of connected dense green leaves,
Underwater small fish swaying gracefully,
The mountains are rolling up and down,