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