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