Watg the outside world carefully,

Like patches of green misty o,

into the stream,

The shimmering light of fireflies shuttled through the grass.

There is a bridge over the creek,

Sonum nigrum, Ryan followed Croton to get off,

look around,

There is a small stream beside the lotus pond,

danced lightly,

The evening breeze mixed with the smell of hot soup,

The moon shadow casts infinite silver threads,

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

The sound of rushing water is clear and pleasant,

crystal clear,

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

like a mirage,

The mountains are rolling up and down,

robots wearing maid es,

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

The grass that just sticks its head out,

Pieces of green in different shades,

like a paradise oh,

sometimes lift it up,

The stream is microwaved,

The houses in the distance are misty and smoky,

The flowers are fragrant, the petals are fluttering,

Like the melo

Naughty blowing little bubbles,

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

Bend it now and then,

attracted a dazzling group of butterflies,

As if singing the symphony of spring,

The flowers follow the breeze,

looming, smoky,

As if the earth was breathing rhythmically,

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

Uer small fish swaying gracefully,