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