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