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