look around,

like a paradise oh,

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

The flowers are fragrant, the petals are fluttering,

Sonum nigrum, Ryan followed Croton to get off,

The shimmering light of fireflies shuttled through the grass.

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

into the stream,

There is a small stream beside the lotus pond,

As if the earth was breathing rhythmically,

robots wearing maid es,

The grass that just sticks its head out,

sometimes lift it up,

danced lightly,

Like the melo

crystal clear,

The stream is microwaved,

The evening breeze mixed with the smell of hot soup,

Uer small fish swaying gracefully,

The flowers follow the breeze,

looming, smoky,

Watg the outside world carefully,

The sound of rushing water is clear and pleasant,

The mountains are rolling up and down,

Bend it now and then,

There is a bridge over the creek,

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

Naughty blowing little bubbles,

attracted a dazzling group of butterflies,

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

The moon shadow casts infinite silver threads,

Pieces of green in different shades,

Like patches of green misty o,

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

As if singing the symphony of spring,

like a mirage,

The houses in the distance are misty and smoky,