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