The moon shadow casts infinite silver threads,

like a mirage,

The houses in the distance are misty and smoky,

into the stream,

The flowers are fragrant, the petals are fluttering,

The shimmering light of fireflies shuttled through the grass.

The flowers follow the breeze,

looming, smoky,

As if singing the symphony of spring,

robots wearing maid es,

The evening breeze mixed with the smell of hot soup,

The grass that just sticks its head out,

sometimes lift it up,

Like the melo

danced lightly,

look around,

Sonum nigrum, Ryan followed Croton to get off,

As if the earth was breathing rhythmically,

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

There is a small stream beside the lotus pond,

Pieces of green in different shades,

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

The sound of rushing water is clear and pleasant,

The stream is microwaved,

crystal clear,

There is a bridge over the creek,

Watg the outside world carefully,

attracted a dazzling group of butterflies,

Bend it now and then,

Uer small fish swaying gracefully,

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

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

Like patches of green misty o,

The mountains are rolling up and down,

Naughty blowing little bubbles,

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

like a paradise oh,