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