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