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