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