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