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