Naughty blowing little bubbles,

Like patches of green misty o,

sometimes lift it up,

The evening breeze mixed with the smell of hot soup,

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

The moon shadow casts infinite silver threads,

The mountains are rolling up and down,

As if singing the symphony of spring,

robots wearing maid es,

As if the earth was breathing rhythmically,

crystal clear,

like a paradise oh,

The sound of rushing water is clear and pleasant,

Watg the outside world carefully,

There is a small stream beside the lotus pond,

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

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

There is a bridge over the creek,

Uer small fish swaying gracefully,

Sonum nigrum, Ryan followed Croton to get off,

The flowers follow the breeze,

Like the melo

The houses in the distance are misty and smoky,

into the stream,

Pieces of green in different shades,

attracted a dazzling group of butterflies,

The shimmering light of fireflies shuttled through the grass.

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

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

The flowers are fragrant, the petals are fluttering,

looming, smoky,

Bend it now and then,

The grass that just sticks its head out,

look around,

like a mirage,

danced lightly,

The stream is microwaved,