The girl who picked the lotus put the girl who picked the lotus into the lotus leaf, as if the color was the same, and the girl's face was hidden in the blooming lotus, which reflected each other.
Lotus is mixed in the lotus pond, and it is difficult to recognize the lotus pond. Only when you hear the song do you know that someone is picking lotus in the pond-picking lotus.
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The green skirt blended with the lotus leaf seems to be cut into a color, and the lotus flower and the girl's face set each other off. So many lotus boats can't be seen when they swing into the pond, and only when they hear the songs do they know that people are picking lotus in the lotus pond.
Summer in the Mountain Pavilion was written by a writer in the Tang Dynasty. The full text of his poem is as follows:
Green trees, deep shadows, long summer, the reflection of the tower in the pond.
The crystal curtains are blowing gently, and the roses are fragrant.
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The green leaves are lush, the shade is particularly cool, and the day is longer than other seasons. The shadow of the balcony is reflected in the clear pool water. The breeze gently blows the colorful crystal bead curtain, and the roses on the shelf are fragrant, and the whole courtyard is filled with refreshing fragrance.
Early Summer in Seclusion is the work of Lu You, a writer in the Song Dynasty. The full text of this poem is as follows:
Lakes and mountains are my home, and willow trees are a path.
When the lake overflows, egrets fly in the air and frogs hum by the lake.
The new crop of bamboo shoots has matured, and the magnolia has just begun to blossom.
Alas, let bygones be bygones, who * * * will sleep in afternoon European tea.
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Beautiful lakes and mountains are my home for flying birds. The locust and willow trees are full of shade, the path is faint, and the way home is curled up. When the lake overflows, egrets are dancing, the grass on the lake is singing and frogs are everywhere. The bamboo shoots of the new crop are ripe, but the brush flowers have just opened. Over time, people are getting old, and those days we are gone. Before I dreamt back to the tea party at noon, who said that year?