Like patches of green misty ocean,
looming, smoky,
There is a small stream beside the lotus pond,
There is a bridge over the creek,
The entrance of the saloon on the 1st floor.
look around,
The mountains are rolling up and down,
The flowers are fragrant, the petals are fluttering,
Bend it now and then,
Watching the outside world carefully,
The houses in the distance are misty and smoky,
As if the earth was breathing rhythmically,
attracted a dazzling group of butterflies,
The sound of rushing water is clear and pleasant,
Naughty blowing little bubbles,
The moon shadow casts infinite silver threads,
The stream is microwaved,
The flowers follow the breeze,
The grass that just sticks its head out,
sometimes lift it up,
rter of an hour,
The evening breeze mixed with the smell of hot soup,
into the stream,
Standing in the left and right rows of realistic robots wearing maid costumes,
Can' t tell which is a flower and which i
like a mirage,
The long branches on the side of the bridge hang in a string,
Solanum nigrum, Ryan followed Croton to get off,
Pieces of green in different shades,
Underwater small fish swaying gracefully,
The wind caressed all kinds of flowers and plants by the stream,
crystal clear,
like a paradise on earth,
He bent slightly, and at the same time whispered: Welcome,
danced lightly,
As if singing the symphony of spring,