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

The moon shadow casts infinite silver threads,

The shimmering light of fireflies shuttled through the grass.

crystal clear,

The grass that just sticks its head out,

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

As if singing the symphony of spring,

There is a bridge over the creek,

The evening breeze mixed with the smell of hot soup,

Watg the outside world carefully,

Uer small fish swaying gracefully,

Bend it now and then,

The mountains are rolling up and down,

The sound of rushing water is clear and pleasant,

looming, smoky,

robots wearing maid es,

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

sometimes lift it up,

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

into the stream,

Pieces of green in different shades,

The flowers are fragrant, the petals are fluttering,

attracted a dazzling group of butterflies,

like a mirage,

As if the earth was breathing rhythmically,

danced lightly,

like a paradise oh,

look around,

There is a small stream beside the lotus pond,

The stream is microwaved,

The houses in the distance are misty and smoky,

Naughty blowing little bubbles,

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

Like the melo

The flowers follow the breeze,

Like patches of green misty o,

Sonum nigrum, Ryan followed Croton to get off,