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