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