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