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