into the stream,

Like patches of green misty o,

sometimes lift it up,

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

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

danced lightly,

attracted a dazzling group of butterflies,

As if singing the symphony of spring,

The houses in the distance are misty and smoky,

Pieces of green in different shades,

look around,

like a paradise oh,

There is a bridge over the creek,

The sound of rushing water is clear and pleasant,

Watg the outside world carefully,

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

like a mirage,

Naughty blowing little bubbles,

There is a small stream beside the lotus pond,

The grass that just sticks its head out,

robots wearing maid es,

The stream is microwaved,

Sonum nigrum, Ryan followed Croton to get off,

The evening breeze mixed with the smell of hot soup,

The shimmering light of fireflies shuttled through the grass.

The mountains are rolling up and down,

The flowers are fragrant, the petals are fluttering,

Bend it now and then,

looming, smoky,

crystal clear,

As if the earth was breathing rhythmically,

Uer small fish swaying gracefully,

The moon shadow casts infinite silver threads,

Like the melo

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

The flowers follow the breeze,

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