The stream gurgles and gently washes away the stones, and birds sometimes feel surprised-listening to autumn under the lotus hill under the moon.
In spring, the quiet stream flows, and the shade of the trees shines on the water and loves sunny and soft.
I like children and scoundrels best, lying on the head of the stream peeling lotus flowers.
In the old days, Maodian was near the forest, and the road turned to the stream bridge.
Alone, grass grows by the stream, and orioles sing on the trees.