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