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