The wind caressed all kinds of flowers and plants by the stream,
The long branches on the side of the bridge hang in a string,
into the stream,
danced lightly,
Like patches of green misty ocean,
The mountains are rolling up and down,
Can' t tell which is a flower and which is a butterfly
like a paradise on earth,
The flowers are fragrant, the petals are fluttering,
attracted a dazzling group of butterflies,
There is a small stream beside the lotus pond,
There is a bridge over the creek,
He bent slightly, and at the same time whispered: Welcome,
The sound of rushing water is clear and pleasant,
crystal clear,
The evening breeze mixed with the smell of hot soup,
The flowers follow the breeze,
Underwater small fish swaying gracefully,
look around,
The stream is microwaved,
in the left and right rows of realistic robots wearing maid costumes,
Solanum nigrum, Ryan followed Croton to get off,
The shimmering light of fireflies shuttled through the grass.
As if the earth was breathing rhythmically,
like a mirage,
The houses in the distance are misty and smoky,
looming, smoky,
As if singing the symphony of spring,
Bend it now and then,
Watching the outside world carefully,
Pieces of green in different shades,
The moon shadow casts infinite silver threads,
The grass that just sticks its head out,
Naughty blowing little bubbles,
sometimes lift it up,