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