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