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