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