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