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