The moon shadow casts infinite silver threads,

Pieces of green in different shades,

Like patches of green misty o,

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

The mountains are rolling up and down,

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

The grass that just sticks its head out,

The flowers are fragrant, the petals are fluttering,

like a mirage,

The flowers follow the breeze,

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

look around,

robots wearing maid es,

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

The houses in the distance are misty and smoky,

As if singing the symphony of spring,

There is a small stream beside the lotus pond,

The evening breeze mixed with the smell of hot soup,

into the stream,

Like the melo

The sound of rushing water is clear and pleasant,

Uer small fish swaying gracefully,

like a paradise oh,

sometimes lift it up,

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

crystal clear,

The stream is microwaved,

The shimmering light of fireflies shuttled through the grass.

As if the earth was breathing rhythmically,

looming, smoky,

danced lightly,

Watg the outside world carefully,

Naughty blowing little bubbles,

There is a bridge over the creek,

attracted a dazzling group of butterflies,

Bend it now and then,

Sonum nigrum, Ryan followed Croton to get off,