Shenghai City, according to the farmland, around the village, clear water and blue sky reflect the full moon.
The river flows artesianly, and the old surrounds China, like a tide, and the smoke is like sleepwalking.
The spring breeze wraps around the flower branches all the way, the scenery is strange, and the busy place is just in time for the smoke to rise.
The small courtyard of the farmhouse is full of smoke and blue sky, the stream is endless, and the mountain flowers are endless.
See Chaimen at the beginning, the day of the return of agriculture and animal husbandry has been dusk, the yellow orioles are singing green willows, and the small bridge is flowing water and the apricot flower village.
The water is beautiful, the mountains are green, the birds are singing, the peaks are circulating, the pastoral music is cultivated, and the smoke is accompanied by the sunrise.
The green mountains and green trees surround the people's houses, the water is blue and the sky is blue, the peasant women are busy with crops in the fields, and the cows are seen in the smoke.
I love to grow peaches, and I blow a pool of water at the beginning of the cooking smoke to go around the small bridge.
A few wisps of cooking smoke in the village, in the countryside, green mountains and green trees around the stream, white geese playing in the shallows on the water.
The water hugs the stream, the winding path leads to the blue spring, the peasant woman hoes the field, and the smoke rises in the west.
Around the blue stream, the water and the sky are in the middle of the harvest, like the tide, and the smoke is like sleepwalking.
A few bells rang at sunset on the west mountain, still there, and the green trees and vines surround the ancient pines.
When the sun sets, farmers cultivate green trees around the village and sing bamboo branches.
The water is blue, the sky is blue, the clouds are leisurely, the light boat is around the green mountains, the farmers are cultivating the pastoral music, and a few wisps of cooking smoke are curling on the green hills.
Around the ancient city, the scenery of the small courtyard in the depths of the water clouds is good, and a few wisps of cooking smoke are accompanied by birdsong.
Vaguely who's flute, a few wisps of cooking smoke into the sunset, the fisherman on the water can't be idle, a leaf around the reed flower.
A few wisps of smoke in the small courtyard are mellow, and the clear stream surrounds the green scenery of the mountain.
Micro fish play in the water, the breeze is light and the countryside is cultivated, and the sky is blue.
Meandering around the green mountain, a pool of clear water reflects the blue sky, cultivating pastoral music, and a few wisps of cooking smoke curl in front of the house.
The farmer is busy planting melons, whose house is it, the spring breeze blows a pool of water, and the swallows fly around the trees.
Cooking smoke, busy and busy, the shepherd boy cow back song head for another year.
The peach blossoms are extraordinarily delicate, and the cuckoo does not understand the mulberry hemp matter, and the family is planting seedlings in the field.
The first few bridges in the south of the Yangtze River, the deep road is far away, and the cuckoo peach blossoms bring rain.
Mo on the mulberry hemp sent warmth to whose house, a cuckoo peach blossom reflected the colorful glow.
The shadow of the sun is oblique, there are people in the source on credit, and the child passes in front of the door and learns to plant melons.
The peach blossoms reflect the colorful glow, call the farmer, and the spring breeze blows the new picture.
Whose jade girl went down to Yaotai, opened overnight, was busy sowing seeds in the sound, and the peach blossom garden was skillfully arranged.
During the Qingming Festival, the spring breeze came to my house in March, and the source of the cuckoo was drunk.
The year is removed, the wicker is sparse, the return is late, and the mulberry hemp is three or two.
In March, the peach blossoms reflect the blue stream, a cuckoo calls for spring, and the farmer does not understand the mulberry hemp matter, and only grows vegetables and fertilizers in the Taoist mountains.
In March, the spring breeze planted mulberry hemp in the corner, and the cuckoo peach blossoms reflected the colorful glow.
Talking mulberry hemp, the people's homes, the spring in the sound of the cuckoo, and the new tea in the peach blossom garden.
A cuckoo calls for spring, the scenery of Taohuajia Mountain is good in March, and the mulberry is full of fragrant flowers.
The catkins are flying, the people in the cuckoo have not returned, and the mulberry and hemp swallows are cut in Chunhui.
The priest's house, the east fence will promote the wine cuckoo early spring, reflecting the sunset.
After the rain, the swallows cut the spring breeze, and the cuckoo peach blossoms reflected the sun.
The sun has gone west, and the peach blossoms are flowing in front of the door, and the eyes are fascinated.
The sound of spring in the peach blossom source is coming again, where is the mulberry hemp, leaning on the clouds.
The poet Qingjing is in the heart, not asking about mulberry and hemp, only about money, the spring is noisy in the sound of cuckoo, and the peach blossom source is good to cultivate.
The cuckoo calls for spring, the peach blossoms of ten thousand trees bloom one after another, and in the smoke and rain in the south of the Yangtze River, there are people in the depths of mulberry hemp.
The peach blossom stream asked where Sang Ma was in the sound of the valley, and the family mountain was not by the white clouds.
Who is the color, hemp is spitting buds, busy sowing, and the peach blossom source is drunk.
I have nothing to do to talk about mulberry hemp, it is my home, busy sowing, and the spring breeze is full of peach blossoms overnight.
In the spring, the cuckoo peach blossoms are dyed red with tears, how many things happen to the rise and fall of the family and country, and several people are the same in the mulberry years.
The branches have gone west, a few chickens in the depths of the bamboo forest, the plumbing fish jumping, and the wild trail flowers and swallows are low.
The green mountains are faintly gone, around the ancient pines, the people in the bamboo forest are not seen, and the flowers and birds are accompanied by the morning bell.
After the rain, the clear stream is full of embankments, the wild paths in front of the mountains are misty, the yellow warblers are chirping in the depths of the bamboo forest, and the birds are crying in the flowers and trees.
Smell the flowers, the birds sing, the branches are empty and lonely, and the water clangs.
Birds sing branches and flowers spit incense, small villages, clear streams and flowing water, wild trails and mountain songs have a long charm.
No one flowers fly by themselves, the clear stream water reflects the slanting sun, the smoke rises from the depths of the bamboo forest, and the branches have returned in spring.
The fishing song sings about the late returnees, and the bright moon and breeze fill the boat