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