Spring rain in the south of the Yangtze River should be seen but not heard.
Listen, I was unconscious for a long time; Look, music can be wonderful and interesting.
Love to watch the rain in the upstairs market. If the car is like running water, then the umbrella is a shore flower. Wet rain makes the world gloomy. From morning to dusk, the rain is generally deep, but the morning is getting brighter and darker. Fortunately, there are gorgeous shore flowers that are quietly open and entertaining.
In the drizzle, there is a dry and slightly warm little world in the stamens on the shore. In this land of Xiaotian, lonely office workers can think quietly, school children in groups of three or five can talk and laugh noisily, first lovers can gain novel experiences of interdependence, and couples in their twilight years have an indifferent tacit understanding of mutual support. Rain, wet the heart, but can not suppress the brilliance of human feelings. All living things are hidden like the sea. Although I am also a small flower on the shore, this does not prevent me from enjoying myself in my small patio.
I like to watch the spring rain in the bamboo forest. On weekdays, graceful bamboos, fluttering in the wind, are submerged by the rain into a silent ball, crawling with dignity in the wild. Looking up at the bamboo crown, like a sword on a bamboo leaf, crystal raindrops are falling, which is a dazzling sword. Stroking wet bamboo stems is like touching cool and tender skin. I seem to be superimposed with bamboo. Mei Lan's four gentlemen, Zhu Ju, each has his own personality, but at least one thing is narcissism, and Zhu Ju is the most lonely. The beauty in Du Fu's poems is sentimental and beautiful, forgetting the thin silk sleeves and the cold. Leaning on bamboo in the rain, sorrow is always like smoke floating in the chimney. I can't explain it, but it won't go away.
Looking up at the boundless sky on the bamboo, there is a feather flying lightly, and I really feel indescribable admiration and sadness in my heart. The wet rain fetters the elegant bamboo, but it doesn't hurt the lightness and freedom of this feather guest. Cold rain, you wet my loneliness, but you can stop my wandering heart. The wind blows through this lush bamboo forest, dyeing the clothes in the attic of Green Jiangnan, making Jiangnan beautiful and vivid; The rain floating across this elegant and clean bamboo forest moistens the dreams in the crimson window and makes Jiangnan sentimental. Bamboo rain makes every day in Jiangnan so fresh and tender.
I like watching the rain on the water. What I remember vividly is boating in Dayuan Lake in the spring rain. I don't know the breadth of water and the depth of fog. I can't help but escape from the fog.
Spring is picturesque, and rain is the wonderful hand of Dan Qing. The meticulous brushwork is like a mountain, and the greenery is dripping after the rain; Grass, for example, is as green as jade after being moistened by fog. Freehand brushwork is like a mountain of folds, teaching cigarettes to cage; For example, in distant villages, the fog is shrouded-it makes people daydream and think. Waves, slowly ups and downs; The boat rocked gently. Open your eyes and watch the boat plow into the white waves; Close your eyes, and in a trance, you will feel that you are walking and dancing. The rape flowers on the shore are retreating and fluttering into yellow ribbons; The rain drifted in front of me and merged into cold tears on my cheeks. Ah, let this gurgling vocal cord put me to sleep, sail like a reed, sail to deeper clouds, go forward, go forward, and at the same time, go up, go up, and sail to the distant and splendid galaxy.
(Published in Selected Students' Compositions and Teachers' Literature Garden in Huangmei No.1 Middle School)
About the author: Hong Guibing, a senior teacher in Huangmei No.1 Middle School.