The houses in the distance are misty and smoky,

The moon shadow casts infinite silver threads,

There is a bridge over the creek,

look around,

The sound of rushing water is clear and pleasant,

robots wearing maid es,

Pieces of green in different shades,

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

Like the melo

sometimes lift it up,

attracted a dazzling group of butterflies,

The evening breeze mixed with the smell of hot soup,

As if the earth was breathing rhythmically,

The stream is microwaved,

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

danced lightly,

into the stream,

looming, smoky,

As if singing the symphony of spring,

The flowers follow the breeze,

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

Sonum nigrum, Ryan followed Croton to get off,

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

Watg the outside world carefully,

crystal clear,

Uer small fish swaying gracefully,

Bend it now and then,

The grass that just sticks its head out,

The mountains are rolling up and down,

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

Like patches of green misty o,

The shimmering light of fireflies shuttled through the grass.

There is a small stream beside the lotus pond,

like a mirage,

Naughty blowing little bubbles,

The flowers are fragrant, the petals are fluttering,

like a paradise oh,