The flowers are fragrant, the petals are fluttering,
Underwater small fish swaying gracefully,
He bent slightly, and at the same time whispered: Welcome,
Pieces of green in different shades,
Can' t tell which is a flower and which i
into the stream,
looming, smoky,
The stream is microwaved,
look around,
rter of an hour,
The houses in the distance are misty and smoky,
The mountains are rolling up and down,
The long branches on the side of the bridge hang in a string,
The evening breeze mixed with the smell of hot soup,
Bend it now and then,
There is a bridge over the creek,
like a paradise on earth,
Like patches of green misty ocean,
As if singing the symphony of spring,
danced lightly,
crystal clear,
The flowers follow the breeze,
like a mirage,
There is a small stream beside the lotus pond,
attracted a dazzling group of butterflies,
sometimes lift it up,
The entrance of the saloon on the 1st floor.
The grass that just sticks its head out,
As if the earth was breathing rhythmically,
The sound of rushing water is clear and pleasant,
Watching the outside world carefully,
Naughty blowing little bubbles,
The moon shadow casts infinite silver threads,
The wind caressed all kinds of flowers and plants by the stream,
Solanum nigrum, Ryan followed Croton to get off,
Standing in the left and right rows of realistic robots wearing maid costumes,