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