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