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