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