The cicadas on the trees and the frogs in the lotus pond,
sometimes lift it up,
The flowers follow the breeze,
Can' t tell which is a flower and which is a butterfly
Room equipment of 147 Hot
Knead out some fine murmurs,
Like the melody of musical notes beating on Geum-hyun,
There is a bridge over the creek,
The long branches on the side of the bridge hang in a string,
Naughty blowing little bubbles,
Compose a three-dimensional animation that outlines the soul,
spring,
Turned over and fell into the water again,
Underwater small fish swaying gracefully,
Breathing in the fresh air with your mouth open,
Glittering in the faint starlight,
The flowers are fragrant, the petals are fluttering,
attracted a dazzling group of butterflies,
The fish swam to the surface in groups,
lush water plants,
The shimmering light of fireflies shuttled through the grass.
As if the earth was breathing rhythmically,
The grass that just sticks its head out,
A breeze blows,
into the stream,
The wind caressed all kinds of flowers and plants by the stream,
Occasionally there are fish jumping out of the water,
danced lightly,
Arouse circles of ripples,
The mirror-like surface of the water undulates,
water waves on the creek,
Bend it now and then,
The splash of the creek and the fine grain of sand,
Watching the outside world carefully,
The reeds sway in the evening wind,