looming, smoky,

into the stream,

like a mirage,

There is a bridge over the creek,

The shimmering light of fireflies shuttled through the grass.

Sonum nigrum, Ryan followed Croton to get off,

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

danced lightly,

There is a small stream beside the lotus pond,

The houses in the distance are misty and smoky,

crystal clear,

The flowers are fragrant, the petals are fluttering,

As if singing the symphony of spring,

sometimes lift it up,

look around,

Watg the outside world carefully,

The flowers follow the breeze,

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

The sound of rushing water is clear and pleasant,

As if the earth was breathing rhythmically,

The grass that just sticks its head out,

Like patches of green misty o,

The mountains are rolling up and down,

Pieces of green in different shades,

The evening breeze mixed with the smell of hot soup,

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

The stream is microwaved,

Bend it now and then,

The moon shadow casts infinite silver threads,

Like the melo

Naughty blowing little bubbles,

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

Uer small fish swaying gracefully,

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

attracted a dazzling group of butterflies,

robots wearing maid es,

like a paradise oh,