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