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