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