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