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