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