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