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