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