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