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