Like patches of green misty o,

The moon shadow casts infinite silver threads,

Like the melo

Watg the outside world carefully,

There is a bridge over the creek,

Naughty blowing little bubbles,

Uer small fish swaying gracefully,

The shimmering light of fireflies shuttled through the grass.

The mountains are rolling up and down,

danced lightly,

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

As if singing the symphony of spring,

attracted a dazzling group of butterflies,

into the stream,

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

sometimes lift it up,

look around,

There is a small stream beside the lotus pond,

The grass that just sticks its head out,

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

The houses in the distance are misty and smoky,

like a mirage,

crystal clear,

like a paradise oh,

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

The flowers follow the breeze,

The flowers are fragrant, the petals are fluttering,

As if the earth was breathing rhythmically,

Sonum nigrum, Ryan followed Croton to get off,

robots wearing maid es,

The sound of rushing water is clear and pleasant,

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

Pieces of green in different shades,

Bend it now and then,

The evening breeze mixed with the smell of hot soup,

looming, smoky,

The stream is microwaved,