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