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

The shimmering light of fireflies shuttled through the grass.

Watg the outside world carefully,

The stream is microwaved,

The houses in the distance are misty and smoky,

As if the earth was breathing rhythmically,

Uer small fish swaying gracefully,

There is a small stream beside the lotus pond,

The moon shadow casts infinite silver threads,

As if singing the symphony of spring,

robots wearing maid es,

like a paradise oh,

Like the melo

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

Pieces of green in different shades,

into the stream,

looming, smoky,

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

The sound of rushing water is clear and pleasant,

There is a bridge over the creek,

attracted a dazzling group of butterflies,

The mountains are rolling up and down,

The flowers are fragrant, the petals are fluttering,

look around,

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

sometimes lift it up,

crystal clear,

Like patches of green misty o,

Naughty blowing little bubbles,

Sonum nigrum, Ryan followed Croton to get off,

danced lightly,

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

The evening breeze mixed with the smell of hot soup,

like a mirage,

Bend it now and then,

The flowers follow the breeze,

The grass that just sticks its head out,