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