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