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