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