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