As if singing the symphony of spring,

Naughty blowing little bubbles,

Sometimes I bend the flowers and plants gently,

The houses in the distance are misty and smoky,

looming, smoky,

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,

The dim moonlight shone through the tree cracks,

There are wisps of fragrance flowing,

Like patches of green misty ocean,

The spring breeze blows slowly,

The stream is microwaved and crystal clear,

Beneath the dense leaves is a babbling stream of water,

at a glance,

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

Quietly drains on this whole leaf,'

like a mirage,

With a touch of sadness, neither charming nor glamorous,

scene,

Pieces of green in different shades,

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zigzag lotus pond,

The trees near and far surround the lotus pond,

full of connected dense green leaves,

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

Sometimes the flower

The sound of rushing water is clear and pleasant,

The leaves are close to each other side by side,

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

A slight cool breeze moves slowly,

Underwater small fish swaying gracefully,

There is a small stream beside the lotus pond,

A frown and a smile are all soul-stirring,

The mountains are rolling up and down,

The moonlight on the lotus pond is like flowing water,

like a paradise on earth,