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