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