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