袅袅轻烟,几缕残荷,烟雨中洋溢着清香。有个素衣女子曾赤脚踩过青苔上那抹潮湿,静静的,清风细扫,空气中增添几分感伤,虽然酸楚却也淡然,仿如她的来到静如莲荷,她的离开悄如春水,留下的只是一丝沉静的幽香,绕于心间,挥之不去,锁于梦乡,寂静守护。(Light smoke rises into the air, there are a few residual lotuses, and the fragrance floats in the misty rain. A woman in simple clothes ever is barefoot on the wet moss, quietly, and the wind sweeping adds a little sadness to the air, and the atmosphere is distressed but tender. It is like that her arrival as quiet as a lotus and her leave as soft as spring water, only a faint fragrance is left around the heart and can't been taken away, just locked in dreamland and guarded by silence.)
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