Like patches of green misty o,

Bend it now and then,

The mountains are rolling up and down,

The stream is microwaved,

There is a small stream beside the lotus pond,

like a paradise oh,

look around,

The sound of rushing water is clear and pleasant,

Like the melo

As if the earth was breathing rhythmically,

crystal clear,

As if singing the symphony of spring,

robots wearing maid es,

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

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

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

sometimes lift it up,

There is a bridge over the creek,

looming, smoky,

Naughty blowing little bubbles,

The moon shadow casts infinite silver threads,

The evening breeze mixed with the smell of hot soup,

attracted a dazzling group of butterflies,

into the stream,

Watg the outside world carefully,

Sonum nigrum, Ryan followed Croton to get off,

like a mirage,

danced lightly,

The grass that just sticks its head out,

The houses in the distance are misty and smoky,

The flowers follow the breeze,

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

The shimmering light of fireflies shuttled through the grass.

The flowers are fragrant, the petals are fluttering,

Pieces of green in different shades,

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

Uer small fish swaying gracefully,