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