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