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