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