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