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