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