The rain drenched your sadness

[1]

The sky is low, the clouds are low, and beneath the clouds is a gradually ethereal night. The land drenched in heavy rain, in the light of the light, with a soft light, gradually spread and disappeared at the edge of the line of sight we could see. Everywhere wet, drifting along the wind, drilled into your nostrils, but also into your body. You close your eyes, the corners of your eyes float with a trace of warmth for no reason, and Rain Water wets the corners of your eyes. You bowed your head and wiped the moisture from the corner of your eye with your hand. By the light projected from your room, you find that after Rain Water's cleaning for several days, the originally dirty playground is not even a trace of sundries, which is a rare sight in front of your building. For a long time, such a night has always been quiet without any ripples. Only the rustle of rain beside you and the waves of the river not far from you come into your ears. Gradually, you feel that your hair, your clothes, your body, your heart, and your sadness are all wet by the ubiquitous rain.

Wet day, wet you, the stars are covered, a trace of rain whispers in the ear, mixed with sighs and melancholy, the dwindling crowd, all want to immediately return to the home full of warmth and laughter, thoughts reflected from the eyes, understanding is only a matter of the moment, everywhere can be seen puddles splashed by cheerful children.

You hold an umbrella, alone, look at the continuous rain, that is the yearning of broken lines, flowing down on the umbrella brace, eight thin columns of water cooperate with each other in the air, resonate with each other, hit the ground as a whole, smash to pieces and reassemble, continue to seep towards its dream, its destination.

And you have no direction, temporarily lost in the land covered by steel and concrete, after wandering for a moment, decided to wander back to the place where white and black meet, that is the beginning of many legends and stories, where people give too much fantasy, it is the hills covered with green grass and flowers, and in the highest position, there is a big tree that doesn't know when it will be there, and you sit on the rough bark. Sniff out the mixed taste of rain, soil and trees with your nose, let big raindrops fall on you, feel this wonderful touch with your body's touch, and become one of nature. maybe this is the true nature of human beings.

Walking in the rain at night, you have neither joy nor sorrow, but there is only a sense of serenity in your heart. Some time ago, because of the hot weather, I had a special desire for rain, but when the rain suddenly came, I didn't have the mood of waiting for the rain. For example, when it rains, you get up late, and when you walk out the door, you find that what is in front of you is only the result of the rain-the ground is wet, the leaves are wet, the flowers are wet, even the air is wet. It is a great pity for you not to witness this change from sunny day to rainy day. Although you know that this regret is of no value, I always feel uncomfortable when I think that I have missed a process from sunny to rainy days in vain.

[2]

When it rains, you want to go out for a walk and walk silently with your head down. The patter of light rain fell on the ground, splashing a beautiful spray. You walk alone in the rain and let your thoughts fall like raindrops; you walk aimlessly in the rain and let your messy thoughts fly in the rain. A silly how many times you have been moved by the rain, and how many times have you spent one lonely night after another with the rain, looking at the drizzle out of the window?

You stand alone in the rainy wind, staring at the story under a falling paper umbrella, walking back and forth with exquisite love, drifting on the winding path, far away sweet sprinkling on the water behind, lost at will, that is the lyric secret of boys and girls, but at this time you still stop in that bitter memory, your cold body shrinks, and your eager eyes fly away feebly. All because of the rain, you wander in the confusion of thoughts, this green season, only floating grass with you, low head pick a hand in the heart, but can not tolerate the sad tears.

You stand alone in the wind with rain, and no one holds an umbrella for you, so you have no choice but to let the rain get wet and hold out your hand. Your fingers feel slightly cool, and a round and moist breath gradually approaches you in the rolling. Through the message from your fingertips, you capture the four seasons brought by wind and rain. The four seasons thus change in your fingers, from spring to summer, from autumn to winter, heaven and earth have no beginning and no end, back and forth one after another reincarnation.

Interspersed with the vicissitudes of life, the long time is divided into equidistant segments, assigned to each tangible and invisible species. We are just a very ordinary one, can not reach the ultimate, there are clear depressions around, can see but can not be filled. Is a gentle depression, dominated by time. Such a sudden thought, the heart more than a trace of melancholy and a little sentimental, more and more feel the rough hardship of life, even if gorgeous is also weak. Life is a unique decision, slowly withering in the euphemism of time, continuously saying goodbye to the past, and saying goodbye to yesterday.

You originally came to catch the happy wind, but caught a handful of distressed rain, withered petals falling on your wet eyes, dripping on the ground will grow a bunch of beautiful grass buds, green seedlings are your lonely bosom friend, loneliness is filled with the patter, you are satisfied with the warmth of this side.

Eyes like water, flowing in the bird habitat branches, you take advantage of the green wings to fly, always can not stop that clump of crisp birds, which dare to disturb the elegance of this environment, let the budding thoughts coexist with the rain, the dream is melting, people in the dream.

You pick up a roll of umbrellas and hold them on the poetic path, wandering back and forth without a shadow, can you not let the rain drench through this lingering charm? You can't find the obscurity of your own bundle, you can only stand at the source of the incense path, like the stillness of the naked root. Rain, rustling, as light as spider silk, as thin as the tip of a needle, as long as thread, fluttered to the earth like a sieve, like a lively child jumping gently in the water, bouncing up a small and round circle of water, instantly integrated into the collective embrace.

Slowly, the rhythm of the rain became tense and much rougher, and thunder from time to time in the dark night drew light in the night sky, as if it were competing with this long night, and let the light light up the world. Ha ha, this idea is very childish, yes, so how can the short-term light compete with such a long night? Like at the moment, how can you burn your lonely thoughts and all the boredom with a cigarette? Think about it, since you can't control it, use another way to feel the rain and such a dark and long night. The rain is still so tight that you can't help but approach the window again, holding a half-smoked cigarette in one hand and reaching out of the window to touch the rain and the smell of night. The moist air is mixed with the fragrance of the soil, with the gentle wind, gently kissing all living creatures, all things are breathing extremely refreshing and comfortable breath, feeling the pulse of the rain beating violently.

Rain is the cultivator of life. You like the rain, like the night, such as the ups and downs of notes, gently slip in the bottom of your heart, you are very careful to enjoy the unique beauty, hold your breath, for fear of frightening all this, you seem to see the mountains of lilac growing pink buds, a faint fragrance pervades the world. The willow tree was covered with a mysterious veil, and the colorful butterfly flowers on the lawn swayed under the coquetry of the spring girl, like countless colorful butterflies flying happily, and all kinds of unknown tree forks spit out translucent leaves, just like a little bergamot. In the rhythmic light music of the spring rain, they are graceful and thrive with tears of gratitude.

You are in it, so obsessed. Yes, you stay, do not know how to express all this beautiful artistic conception, the melody of music is changing, sometimes high and sometimes low, sometimes fast and sometimes slow. So is the rain, sometimes big and sometimes small, you are also changing, aren't you? At this time, I seem to see rows of maple trees, red, under the moisture of the rain, appear so crystal clear, often there will be pieces of maple leaves, slowly falling. And falling down, are so hierarchical and regular, gently falling on the ground, still so beautiful. So beautiful, really so beautiful.

[3]

The poetry of the night rain belongs to the poet, or only the poet can realize the poetry from the night rain. In such a night, they will sit by the window, turn all kinds of thoughts into lines of sad words, and let the rustling sound of the pen tip on the paper blend into the dripping sound of rain. The night rain gave them a quiet atmosphere of inspiration. And ordinary people like you, just stand against the window, quietly looking at the rain feet out of the window, or stretch out your hand and draw a missing name on the window. Perhaps only this boundless thought belongs to you.

The continuous rain is mixed with a slightly colder wind, which stretches your thoughts long and continuous. Because of the rain, time seems to come to a standstill, the space has become narrow, there is only one voice between heaven and earth, and there is a shining white light around. You are not a poet, but now you are inspired by a different meaning. I have repeatedly sketched the appearance of a person in my mind for a long time, but I can't spell out the face I remember. At the moment, the face floated clearly from the rain curtain, so you easily captured a precious picture, so secretly glad in my heart that I could finally locate the appearance of that person in my mind. And all this comes from the endless night and the continuous rain.

The patter of rain fell outside the window, and the night arrived in such a hurry, with the rain and the wind, chilly. Most of the rainy days in the poet's eyes are full of parting sadness, gradually growing up, gradually parting to experience a variety of taste, cold rain added a little melancholy. A lot of mournful poems suddenly sprang up in our minds. perhaps, there are too many sadness in our hearts, which will make us sigh and evoke tears in such a rainy season. This night, you listen to the rain alone upstairs, thoughts drifting with the wind, swinging with the rain, sad is also beautiful. You cherish the moment, silent and lonely time to listen to the rain; you enjoy this moment, a cup of hot tea, a rain, a cool breeze, can not see the edge of the night. Thousands of thoughts poured into my heart, and I couldn't help sighing for a long time, and everything became light again.

Gently, you close your eyes and listen to the rain, it is not the intense summer thunderstorm, no winter rain stingy, ticking on the eaves of the window, like the sound of a crisp xylophone, some exquisitely carved meaning. Listen will not be upset, with the wind, refreshing. Life is rarely quiet, accustomed to living in groups, you almost forget the taste of quiet, noisy life, high-frequency rhythm, numerous things. It has long been a luxury for a person to sit quietly and talk to himself. Spring breeze sends cool, indeed, suitable cold, neither stuffy nor cold. The light curtain, dancing faintly, with the green leaves and flowers outside the window, is a kind of beauty that is dull and silent but more moving than sound at this time. You think that all things have language and all things have feelings. At some point when you need to express and the words are poor, you are eager to understand and are alone, maybe you can stop, feel the language of nature, and find a friend in your heart. You do not want to open your eyes, do not want to turn on the TV, take advantage of this moment, enjoy the fun of listening to the rain, enjoy this rare pleasure. Give yourself a reason, a person, a rain, you, will hear what? What will you see?

Under the rain all night, how many petals withered in the wind and rain, leaving a faint fragrance in the air; how many poems such as "Rain Water is raining heavily under Bashan tonight" are brewing in sleepless nights; how many travelers are held back by them and miss their homes far away. There is also such a you, holding a cup of tea, taste the taste of the rain this night. When a trace of coolness began to climb up the skin, the cup had run out of tea. Finally, you hide into the warm quilt, and the sound of rain is still in your ear. Listen, you go to sleep unexpectedly. There is also rain in the dream, there is a missing figure, so in the dream and stretch out a hand, draw a name on the window, at that moment, you feel that you are also a poet.

In your dream, the rain is still falling, it is still drifting, and you are still lingering with sadness. I do not know is the rain wet your sadness, or your sadness affected the rain, you are so devoted to the rain, like the night. And I, because of you, also began to like your love, feeling your sadness, after all, I also know that rain has a soul; only then do I understand that the melancholy of rain is not a kind of ultimate beauty; it turns out that rain is the crystallization of love and the embodiment of the essence of love.

Author: wild Chrysanthemum in Taoyuan