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