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