There are several plum trees in the corner, and Ling Han is blooming alone. I know it's not snow from afar, because there is a faint fragrance coming.
The jasper is as high as a tree, with thousands of green silk ribbons hanging down.
The trees at the head of the pond where I wash my inkstones are all blooming with faint ink marks.
Heavy snow pressed down on the green pine trees, which stood tall and straight. You should know that the pines are noble and pure until the snow melts.
There is only the sky above, not to mention the mountains. The red sun is approaching when you raise your head, and the white clouds are low when you look back.