Flowers are not flowers, mist is not mist. It comes at midnight and goes away at dawn. It came like a spring dream in a short time, and left like a morning cloud with nowhere to find.

UK: Fans cannot dispel the fog.

Florio: Straw fires make a lot of smoke.

S. Eliot Shay: The yellow fog rubbed its back against the pane.

Europe: A fan cannot dispel a fog.

Wa people: The eyes of mountain eagles are not afraid of fog, and the light of truth is not afraid of being shrouded.

The fog has expanded. Occupying almost half of the sky, it closed in from all directions at the same time; in this fog, there seemed to be oil droplets suspended. Unknowingly, the thick fog became wider and wider, and the breeze slowly and quietly carried it away. The ground pushes forward. It gradually took over the entire sea surface. It came from the northwest, the direction the ship's bow was pointing. It is like a huge cliff that moves vaguely, and like a high wall rising from the sea. There is a definite point where the boundless sea disappears into the fog. (Fa Hugo: "Sea Labor" p. 166)

The fog was rising, but it fell again and became denser. Sometimes it's almost completely opaque. The ship was stuck in iceberg-like fog. This terrible siege opens like a pair of pliers, allowing one to catch a glimpse of the horizon, and then closes again immediately. (Fa Hugo: "Labour on the Sea 212>> Page 171)

The newly condensed water vapor in the black valley floats on the countless streams in the LU Valley even on warm summer nights. , like a white tablecloth, you can see this endless white patch from a distance, like a lake. (Fargeorge Sand: "The Grinder of Anjiburg" pp. 153-154)

It started to fog at dawn. The fog moved along the valley and shrouded the city.

At night, the street lights on the shore form a halo of light. Looking from the beach, you can only see milky white spots... (Mi Ribeiro: "Under the Steep Shore" "Selected Short Stories from Latin America" ??No. 258 pages)