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