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