The mountains are rolling up and down,

zigzag lotus pond,

Sometimes I bend the flowers and plants gently,

like a paradise on earth,

The leaves are close to each other side by side,

It is imagined as a woman who came out of an ancient ink painting,

Pieces of green in different shades,

It seems like a slim lady's skirt is swaying,

A frown and a smile are all soul-stirring,

The stream is microwaved and crystal clear,

You can also clearly distinguish the toothed tree shadows and the abrupt rocks...

There are wisps of fragrance flowing,

Naughty blowing little bubbles,

There is a small stream beside the lotus pond,

like a mirage,

Like patches of green misty ocean,

Quietly drains on this whole leaf,'

looming, smoky,

The sound of rushing water is clear and pleasant,

A slight cool breeze moves slowly,

The spring breeze blows slowly,

The trees near and far surround the lotus pond,

Underwater small fish swaying gracefully,

The dim moonlight shone through the tree cracks,

With a touch of sadness, neither charming nor glamorous,

Beneath the dense leaves is a babbling stream of water,

at a glance,

scene,

Sometimes the flower

But it is ice muscle and jade bone, fresh and dusty,

full of connected dense green leaves,

The moonlight on the lotus pond is like flowing water,

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The wind caressed all kinds of flowers and plants by the stream,

The houses in the distance are misty and smoky,

As if singing the symphony of spring,