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