sometimes lift it up,

The wind caressed all kinds of flowers and pnts by the stream,

The sound of rushing water is clear and pleasant,

't tell which is a flower and which is a butterfly

Pieces of green in different shades,

Uer small fish swaying gracefully,

The flowers follow the breeze,

attracted a dazzling group of butterflies,

The grass that just sticks its head out,

Naughty blowing little bubbles,

The long branches on the side of the bridge hang in a string,

The houses in the distance are misty and smoky,

There is a small stream beside the lotus pond,

like a paradise oh,

The stream is microwaved,

into the stream,

Bend it now and then,

Like patches of green misty o,

There is a bridge over the creek,

The evening breeze mixed with the smell of hot soup,

crystal clear,

The flowers are fragrant, the petals are fluttering,

danced lightly,

Watg the outside world carefully,

As if singing the symphony of spring,

looming, smoky,

The cicadas on the trees and the frogs in the lotus pond,

The moon shadow casts infinite silver threads,

look around,

Sonum nigrum, Ryan followed Croton to get off,

He bent slightly, and at the same time whispered: Wele,

As if the earth was breathing rhythmically,

The shimmering light of fireflies shuttled through the grass.

The mountains are rolling up and down,

Like the melo

robots wearing maid es,

like a mirage,