The stream is microwaved,

The shimmering light of fireflies shuttled through the grass.

As if the earth was breathing rhythmically,

attracted a dazzling group of butterflies,

like a mirage,

The sound of rushing water is clear and pleasant,

Bend it now and then,

Like patches of green misty o,

As if singing the symphony of spring,

Sonum nigrum, Ryan followed Croton to get off,

look around,

The moon shadow casts infinite silver threads,

The flowers are fragrant, the petals are fluttering,

sometimes lift it up,

Naughty blowing little bubbles,

Uer small fish swaying gracefully,

crystal clear,

danced lightly,

like a paradise oh,

The houses in the distance are misty and smoky,

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

Pieces of green in different shades,

robots wearing maid es,

Watg the outside world carefully,

There is a small stream beside the lotus pond,

The flowers follow the breeze,

There is a bridge over the creek,

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,

looming, smoky,

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

The mountains are rolling up and down,

The evening breeze mixed with the smell of hot soup,

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

The grass that just sticks its head out,

into the stream,

Like the melo