Watching the outside world carefully,
Can' t tell which is a flower and which i
look around,
The grass that just sticks its head out,
The evening breeze mixed with the smell of hot soup,
The flowers are fragrant, the petals are fluttering,
The long branches on the side of the bridge hang in a string,
looming, smoky,
into the stream,
The wind caressed all kinds of flowers and plants by the stream,
The sound of rushing water is clear and pleasant,
Naughty blowing little bubbles,
Underwater small fish swaying gracefully,
like a paradise on earth,
rter of an hour,
Bend it now and then,
The moon shadow casts infinite silver threads,
like a mirage,
Like patches of green misty ocean,
He bent slightly, and at the same time whispered: Welcome,
The stream is microwaved,
sometimes lift it up,
As if singing the symphony of spring,
The houses in the distance are misty and smoky,
As if the earth was breathing rhythmically,
Standing in the left and right rows of realistic robots wearing maid costumes,
Solanum nigrum, Ryan followed Croton to get off,
Pieces of green in different shades,
The entrance of the saloon on the 1st floor.
crystal clear,
The flowers follow the breeze,
There is a small stream beside the lotus pond,
attracted a dazzling group of butterflies,
The mountains are rolling up and down,
danced lightly,
There is a bridge over the creek,