The mountains are rolling up and down,
looming, smoky,
Naughty blowing little bubbles,
He bent slightly, and at the same time whispered: Welcome,
look around,
The flowers are fragrant, the petals are fluttering,
There is a bridge over the creek,
The long branches on the side of the bridge hang in a string,
The grass that just sticks its head out,
The stream is microwaved,
Standing in the left and right rows of realistic robots wearing maid costumes,
As if singing the symphony of spring,
The houses in the distance are misty and smoky,
Bend it now and then,
There is a small stream beside the lotus pond,
As if the earth was breathing rhythmically,
Underwater small fish swaying gracefully,
Solanum nigrum, Ryan followed Croton to get off,
The moon shadow casts infinite silver threads,
Can' t tell which is a flower and which i
The entrance of the saloon on the 1st floor.
The evening breeze mixed with the smell of hot soup,
Pieces of green in different shades,
like a mirage,
Watching the outside world carefully,
sometimes lift it up,
into the stream,
The sound of rushing water is clear and pleasant,
rter of an hour,
crystal clear,
The flowers follow the breeze,
The wind caressed all kinds of flowers and plants by the stream,
attracted a dazzling group of butterflies,
Like patches of green misty ocean,
like a paradise on earth,
danced lightly,