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