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