The shadow of fog seems to have brought me into an illusory fairyland. I feel as if I am roaming between heaven and earth, and the white fog like a veil is constantly drifting in front of my eyes, a little bit, a wisp of smoke, picturesque. I reached out to touch it, haha, I caught it. Just when I looked at it carefully, it had slipped away. Its shadow is everywhere, but I can't figure out where it is. I really don't know its true face.

Fog swims in the mountains, like a painter splashing ink, turning the original mountain into a landscape and making a series of painters.

The morning mist is like light smoke. Like a cloud. Like a thin white gauze. Is illusory. Sometimes, like naughty children, they run from the mountain to the foot, sometimes they get into the dense forest, and the sun disappears as soon as it comes out.

Flowers are not flowers, fog is not fog, come at midnight and go at dawn. A short time comes like a spring dream, and a long time goes like a floating cloud. An ancient poem describing fog said: the fog lost its tower, the moon passed through the maze, and Taoyuan was nowhere to be found.

On the moonlit night on the riverside, the spring tide in Lian Haiping was born together with the bright moon on the sea. I drift thousands of miles, where there is no moon by the river! The river flows around Fangdian, and the moonlight shines on the flower forest like graupel. Frost flows in the air, you can't fly, but you can't see the white sand on the pavilion. There is no dust in the sky on the river, and there is a lonely moon in the sky. Who saw the moon by the river for the first time? When did Jiang Yue take the photo at the beginning of the year? Life is endless from generation to generation, and Jiang Yue is similar year after year. I don't know who Jiang Yue is waiting for, but I see the Yangtze River delivering water. ?