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