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