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.)