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