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