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