Like patches of green misty o,

The grass that just sticks its head out,

sometimes lift it up,

crystal clear,

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

attracted a dazzling group of butterflies,

There is a small stream beside the lotus pond,

Sonum nigrum, Ryan followed Croton to get off,

into the stream,

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

Naughty blowing little bubbles,

like a mirage,

The evening breeze mixed with the smell of hot soup,

Like the melo

Pieces of green in different shades,

danced lightly,

Uer small fish swaying gracefully,

The mountains are rolling up and down,

As if singing the symphony of spring,

There is a bridge over the creek,

robots wearing maid es,

Watg the outside world carefully,

The flowers follow the breeze,

The stream is microwaved,

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

look around,

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

Bend it now and then,

As if the earth was breathing rhythmically,

like a paradise oh,

looming, smoky,

The shimmering light of fireflies shuttled through the grass.

The moon shadow casts infinite silver threads,

The sound of rushing water is clear and pleasant,

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

The flowers are fragrant, the petals are fluttering,

The houses in the distance are misty and smoky,