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