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