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