like a mirage,
Can' t tell which is a flower and which i
looming, smoky,
Bend it now and then,
The entrance of the saloon on the 1st floor.
Pieces of green in different shades,
The long branches on the side of the bridge hang in a string,
There is a small stream beside the lotus pond,
The houses in the distance are misty and smoky,
The moon shadow casts infinite silver threads,
As if singing the symphony of spring,
There is a bridge over the creek,
The flowers are fragrant, the petals are fluttering,
attracted a dazzling group of butterflies,
The wind caressed all kinds of flowers and plants by the stream,
The flowers follow the breeze,
As if the earth was breathing rhythmically,
Naughty blowing little bubbles,
The stream is microwaved,
Like patches of green misty ocean,
like a paradise on earth,
sometimes lift it up,
He bent slightly, and at the same time whispered: Welcome,
Standing in the left and right rows of realistic robots wearing maid costumes,
The mountains are rolling up and down,
The evening breeze mixed with the smell of hot soup,
danced lightly,
Solanum nigrum, Ryan followed Croton to get off,
Watching the outside world carefully,
look around,
The grass that just sticks its head out,
into the stream,
rter of an hour,
crystal clear,
Underwater small fish swaying gracefully,
The sound of rushing water is clear and pleasant,