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