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