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