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