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