sometimes lift it up,
Watching the outside world carefully,
look around,
The stream is microwaved,
The long branches on the side of the bridge hang in a string,
There is a small stream beside the lotus pond,
like a paradise on earth,
The sound of rushing water is clear and pleasant,
The entrance of the saloon on the 1st floor.
The moon shadow casts infinite silver threads,
There is a bridge over the creek,
looming, smoky,
The flowers follow the breeze,
The evening breeze mixed with the smell of hot soup,
As if the earth was breathing rhythmically,
The wind caressed all kinds of flowers and plants by the stream,
The flowers are fragrant, the petals are fluttering,
As if singing the symphony of spring,
Bend it now and then,
Naughty blowing little bubbles,
Solanum nigrum, Ryan followed Croton to get off,
Standing in the left and right rows of realistic robots wearing maid costumes,
The grass that just sticks its head out,
Pieces of green in different shades,
attracted a dazzling group of butterflies,
Like patches of green misty ocean,
He bent slightly, and at the same time whispered: Welcome,
Can' t tell which is a flower and which i
The mountains are rolling up and down,
into the stream,
danced lightly,
Underwater small fish swaying gracefully,
The houses in the distance are misty and smoky,
crystal clear,
rter of an hour,
like a mirage,