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