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