The grass that just sticks its head out,
The flowers follow the breeze,
The evening breeze mixed with the smell of hot soup,
Naughty blowing little bubbles,
danced lightly,
The sound of rushing water is clear and pleasant,
Standing in the left and right rows of realistic robots wearing maid costumes,
He bent slightly, and at the same time whispered: Welcome,
There is a small stream beside the lotus pond,
Pieces of green in different shades,
look around,
Watching the outside world carefully,
looming, smoky,
rter of an hour,
Bend it now and then,
The long branches on the side of the bridge hang in a string,
The flowers are fragrant, the petals are fluttering,
attracted a dazzling group of butterflies,
sometimes lift it up,
into the stream,
Can' t tell which is a flower and which i
There is a bridge over the creek,
The stream is microwaved,
crystal clear,
The entrance of the saloon on the 1st floor.
The moon shadow casts infinite silver threads,
Solanum nigrum, Ryan followed Croton to get off,
The wind caressed all kinds of flowers and plants by the stream,
like a paradise on earth,
The houses in the distance are misty and smoky,
As if singing the symphony of spring,
Underwater small fish swaying gracefully,
As if the earth was breathing rhythmically,
Like patches of green misty ocean,
like a mirage,
The mountains are rolling up and down,