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