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