With the development of the times, the concept of prose has changed from broad to narrow, and it has been influenced by western culture. Prose is a narrative literary genre that expresses the author's true feelings and flexible writing style. The following is my essay on listening to the rain in a drunken bamboo pavilion. Welcome to collect and read it.
Drunk in the bamboo grove pavilion and listening to the rain
In the summer evening, there was a breeze blowing through the bamboo forest in Cangsheng Park. Some drunken me came to the pavilion of a large bamboo forest in Nuoda with the wind, leaning back in the chair, letting the wind gently blow through the bamboo forest and the sea, and also blowing my cheeks. Looking at this lush bamboo forest, I let my thoughts wander freely, and I broke into this bamboo forest and merged into this vibrant and vibrant bamboo forest life sea. In summer, the bamboo forest is dripping with green, overflowing with green, green and charming. If at this time, I am happy to have a drizzle, drunk in the bamboo forest to watch the drizzle, and listening to the rain in the bamboo forest, what kind of "walking clouds caress and flowing water is clear"? I was thinking that the sky would follow people's wishes, and there was drizzle falling in the air. This refreshing drizzle rustled the bamboo leaves in the yearning for the sound of the bamboo forest.
At this moment, I am leaning back in the chair of the bamboo pavilion, quietly closing my eyes and listening to the rustling of the drizzle bamboo leaves, just like listening to the lullaby humming by my mother, which makes my heart quiet and comfortable in the bamboo forest and slowly settling in the rain. This rustling of bamboo leaves sings a song, but the bamboo forest knows it, for fear that the rustling of bamboo leaves will surprise the cicada sheltering from the rain and disturb the sparrow that lives there. However, things end up like chess, carved indifferently, and the clouds are rolling and comfortable. In the drizzle in the bamboo forest, I can smell the intoxicating fresh bamboo, green smoke, elegant and remote, like a fairy. Oh, lying drunk in the bamboo grove pavilion listening to the rain should be an artistic conception, a yearning, a long-lost peace and clarity in the Ming and Qing Dynasties. "Idle flowers fall to the ground and listen to silence. Who does the drizzle wet clothes ask?" A piece of paper has passed through the years and fallen into ink, which has amused the years and comforted the time. Suddenly, the light rain came as promised. In an instant, the bamboo forest is silent, and the rivers are speechless ... The heart is beating, the rain is noisy, the bamboo forest is rustling, and the rain is buzzing. It's drizzling, refreshing, fragrant and refreshing. Time is shallow, it rains like cotton, the coolness of fingertips overlooks the gaze, and the thrill of my heart infiltrates my heart.
"don't listen to the sound of beating leaves through the forest, why not sing and walk slowly?" Bamboo poles and straw sandals are more nimble than riding, what is the terrible thing? A misty rain is a lifetime. " I walked out of the pavilion singing "Ding Feng" by Mr. Su Shi and Mr. Su Lao.
Walking on the stone road with drizzle, I always felt the coolness of the drizzle kissing my hair. MuMiao milk smoke, light flow. Perhaps, at this moment, the quiet bamboo forest, accompanied by light rain, has lightened the heat and enriched the elegance and elegance.
Walking along this winding path, Tao Ran strolled in the quiet bamboo forest drizzle in Cangsheng Park. "The rain washes Juanjuan clean, and the wind blows fine." The rain is smart and illusory, the bamboo is quiet and enchanting. Look, at the moment, the rain is beating gently on the bamboo leaves, and the crystal clear water drops also coincide with the silent rolling and tender on the bamboo leaves. The drizzle fell in the bamboo forest and on the branches of bamboo leaves. They alternated from east to west, from left to right, and had a good time. Suddenly, the drizzle fell slightly, quietly without a trace, and moistened it. Listening to the poetic rain, smelling the cool and refreshing. The sound of bamboo leaves, the sound of raindrops, the continuous drizzle soaked this cool bamboo leaves, but the bamboo leaves carefully cared for the fragrance of nectar. The value of depression is thick, and the cigarettes are raining. They are lingering in the rain leaves, and the rain beads are accompanied by the flowing Qingxi, stepping on the fine steps, and suddenly looking back. Suddenly, this impetuous heart is in this warm and quiet bamboo forest. In this bamboo forest, listening to the drizzle, there is a wet feeling, and my heart becomes clear and clear in the Ming and Qing Dynasties, and my mind is quiet, natural and free, and I have no attachment.
I woke up after walking and drinking, but my thoughts came up. It turns out that the bamboo forest is listening to the rain, I am waiting for you, and you are waiting for me. The heart is on the other side, and love is on this side. Standing in the forest, the forest is in the rain. The bamboo forest listens to the rain, washes the heart empty, the rain hits the bamboo leaves, and the voice asks the soul. I have dreamed about it for countless times, so that my heart beats slowly in this soft and ethereal artistic conception, and my thoughts fly slowly with this lingering sound, and then I cross the heavy mist woven by a curtain of misty rain, and finally I am glad to hold on to the cool rain pearl in my heart. But in a hurry, suddenly, there was a breeze in Xu Lai, and the bamboo branches swayed and danced obliquely to clear the shadows, which suddenly shook down the leisure worries of this place, shattered the pieces of smoke clouds that condensed dew and dripped green, and this dream of ecstasy. It turned out that I was listening to the rain in the bamboo forest, and the bamboo forest secretly appreciated me in the rain. The bamboo forest listens to the rain, rhymes in the rain, and sings in the heart. In this way, the bamboo forest listens to the rain, rhymes in the rain, and the mood is in the song. The bamboo forest is whistling, the flowers are dying, the wind is talking, and the rain is bothering. I was drunk, I woke up, but you slept ...
Yes, as long as my heart has always adhered to a piece of green, a curtain of rain, and an indifference, honor and disgrace, even if there is a temporary "coolness" in my life, it will always be "greeted with a slanting view on the hill" and never return. Mermen weep their pearly tears down a moon-green sea, things have changed for several years. The dust in the world doesn't know how many thoughts are bound to stay. The bamboo forest listened to the rain, and the rain cooled the bamboo, and the bamboo moistened my heart. Summer rain whispers, life is like a dream, and life is a little melancholy. Perhaps, between disconsolate already boundless. Some people walk away, and some things fade when they look at them. There is too much nothingness in life, and too much anxiety in my life. We should be calm and clear-minded, meaning Jing Qing, and it is best to walk into the long bamboo forest and enjoy a quiet and quiet life.
In summer, the bamboo forest is filled with a touch of freshness in the heat. It is dripping with green, and it is lightly impetuous. The gentle wind shook off the heat of the whole body, and what about the drizzle? But from time to time falling on the cool face, ears. Maybe at this time, there will be that noise. Who is it? Playing the music of nature, inviting all over the sky in the rain, I have been listening tirelessly to the tall and straight power of bamboo in this drizzle, and I have never changed it all my life? "The rain wets people's hearts, and the wind blows people awake." Looking at this lush bamboo forest, what attitude should people take to penetrate this bustling floating world and find a quiet place for their souls to inhabit? What kind of tune should I write to penetrate my heart and recall the purity of my heart all the time? Oh, it turns out that I am drunk in the pavilion, listening to the rain in the bamboo forest, rhyming in the rain, feeling in the song, and bamboo has always been in my heart.
Other essays listening to the rain:
Drunk lying in the bamboo grove pavilion listening to the rain
Watching the autumn rain lingering and sighing, one autumn rain is cold.
I stood in front of the store for a while, gathering my clothes, and suddenly remembered, isn't there a lotus pond 15 miles away in the suburbs by the Xiao water? In such autumn rain, I wonder what happened to the lotus pond? But narcissistic gorgeous? Or are the leaves falling? Thinking about it, my heart moved and my body moved. I put on my coat and took my umbrella and disappeared in the misty rain.
along the way, I remember vividly the scene of watching the lotus pond with a girlfriend in summer. A pool full of lotus leaves was strewn at random, and several buds that had not yet bloomed were slim, pink but not enchanting, dignified and delicate. I still remember saying to my best friend,
"I wish I could build a small house here and have a pot of fragrant tea. It's so pleasant." "Want to stay away from life?" My best friend said with a smile:
"Lotus flowers are only in full bloom in summer, and they will wither in autumn. That kind of scenery makes people sad and gives people a sad feeling of' leaving the residual lotus to listen to the rain'. Would you still be willing to stay here?"
it's as my best friend said.
When autumn comes, when I come here again, the beauty in my eyes in the past is "the fragrance of the lotus root is gone". The incomplete lotus leaves, withered stems everywhere, some withered, some bent over and killed everywhere caught my eyes, which made me feel disappointed.
I lingered on the edge of the lotus pond, sighing, I don't know when the rain was getting denser and denser, beating the residual lotus, and I heard the lotus crying. Yes, the prosperity of the past was like a passing cloud, but now it is the fading of leaves, leaving only the residual leaves in the pool, which is not sad? The cool breeze attacks people, the cold rain hits the residual lotus, ticking, overflowing a pool of loneliness, and the raindrops lightly overflow. I seem to hear the residual lotus sigh in the rain.
I can't bear to touch the weakness of the lotus, as if I dare not discuss the massiness of life, just like the smile after the lotus blooms. Who can understand the lotus's mind? Lotus from prosperity to decline, from the attention of the world to no one cares, although it is only the reincarnation of all things, it is still not sad.
The pool is full of small kills, and the rain hits the residual lotus, rustling and singing. Suddenly, I think of Li Shangyin's poem: The bamboo dock is clean and the water is clear, and the homesickness is separated from the heavy city. Autumn is cloudy and frost flies late, leaving dry lotus to listen to the rain. If you send it for no reason, you will stay. If you can't say why, your heart will ache faintly. Cold pond withered shadows, cold rain spent the soul. The residual lotus is silent, and the autumn rain rustle in widex beats the withered lotus, as if sighing, yet again, yet again.
quietly standing by this lotus pond listening to the rain, are those little drops dripping into my heart as quiet as this residual lotus? Is it true that things on earth are generally the same: after the youth, it will wither; Lead washing is pure; When the feast is over, it is quiet; After the prosperity is the return; Or there is nothing to say after deep love.
In life, we can all face the prosperous world with a smile and read all the joy in life. Only when the prosperity is exhausted and we are sad, how many people can really "watch the flowers bloom and fall in front of the court" and "look at the clouds rolling in the sky"?
I'm afraid this is another realm of life. What is more important is a state of mind, isn't it? Silent, and I got the message.
The rain is beating on the withered lotus, and the fine rain drops on the residual lotus, as if bringing a ray of wet sadness to the lotus. Listening to the melody of the rain, my heart has gained a quiet after precipitation desolation and sadness. Some people admire the flowers, but others pity the flowers. Who says that only the lotus flowers in summer are red, the autumn wind blows, and the autumn rains come one after another, quietly listening to the sound of the withered lotus bearing the rain. As the saying goes, the lotus flowers bloom in the heart, not the sound of the piano is better than the sound of the piano. This obsession, even if it dies, can generate thousands of different customs, so charming that it can arouse the world's love!
the autumn rain has been falling, and it is dripping and dripping on the remaining lotus leaves, ticking, ticking. Leave the residual lotus to listen to the rain. Autumn rain has been falling, falling, falling, dripping on my umbrella, ticking, ticking. The truth is, the fleeting time is gone, and the exquisite mind is hard to find. A person's rain umbrella, a person's residual load, thought a lot. It's getting late. It's time to go back.
However, after a few steps, I couldn't help but look back and left alone.
Drunk in the bamboo grove pavilion, listening to the rain
In early summer, a rain lingered under the night, and gradually, the heat wave brought by the day began to converge, and the night was drowned out, but the colorful lights showed their shadows in the misty rain. People who calm down, don't provoke the smoke pavilion, don't get drunk on Yunqiao, just lean against the window and listen to the rain quietly.
The misty rain in the early summer night blurs the sight, narrows the distance of distant mountains, and makes people's calls reach your city on the horizon. Looking back, I count the raindrops alone, and drop by drop I hit the bluestone slab under the eaves. The broken spray, like my dream, shattered all over the floor. Lonely person, let my steps cross your thoughts, and let my dreams turn green again in the misty rain of this early summer night. Tick-tock, answer-tock, listen to the rain in the early summer night, and you will have a stream and flow your thoughts quietly. Open the window according to the rhythm that can withstand the heartbeat, close your eyes and feel the raindrops flying over the window lattice and touching your cheeks. They are cool and just neutralize the harshness and low eyebrows on my blushing face. I pick up an old story and listen to the drizzle outside the window and taste it slowly.
I haven't been able to listen to the rain in such a quiet way for a long time. Perhaps I was held back by trivial matters of the world of mortals. Perhaps the noisy sound drowned out the comfort of the rain? Maybe it's been a long time since I had such a lonely luxury? ..... Neither! It's not that I don't want to hear it. If I'm afraid of it, I'll take myself into the whirlpool of missing, and I'll never be able to get out of the emotional circle again.
Are the lilacs blooming in the alley in the rain? Have the girls like lilacs come? In this early summer rain, I was looking for the shadow of a person with a broken umbrella. A drop of rain lost my eyes and rubbed my makeup, showing the simplicity of missing people. This early summer rain sounds like a harmoniously played melody. In the dead of night, when listening to it in a dream a dream-like sound, just lean against a idle window and leave all thoughts stranded. Just listen quietly.
In early summer, the drizzle rustled outside the window, which made a cluster of roses wet, and you couldn't see how much it was scattered in the night. The drizzle rustles on our hearts, and people crush their feelings and throw them into the rain. In the night, we can't see the rain flower. Open the window wide, explore the window and let the rain fall in the palm of your hand. Along the veins of palm prints, it flows into staggered traces. How many grievances can the depth of emotional lines accommodate? My face is close to the window, and the drizzle in early summer is on my lips, but it has some astringent taste, just like my tears in the quiet night. I hope this tear will not be abandoned in an early summer drizzle!
Drunk in the bamboo grove gazebo and listening to the rain
There is a constant roar of thunder outside, and the raindrops can't bear to fall, and the air heat flow has not disappeared. Standing in front of the building, looking at the dry world, patches of green are falling, without any strength. Desire is an unbearable, impatient, expectation, with many fantasies. A silver light in the sky tore open the cracks and the rain gradually fell. The earth rolled and moved, and the wet heart was safely put on hold. Smile opens, the whole body stretches, a chill is completely released, and the fresh world is all in an instant. Rainy days without wind are music that beats in silence, dripping and clattering. Everything absorbs the essence, feels full of the water of life, buds bloom, fruits are oily green, withered flowers are knocked down by moisture, buried in the soil, and the last provision is made. Descent and rebirth, telling the law of all things, those who love greatly will be great lovers.
A song "In the Rain" floats leisurely, as if seeing Yu He, an umbrella pavilion, weeping willows, everything and romance, and entering a fantasy world. Have a cup of white tea fairy, the silver house is dancing, the tea tip is erect, a girl is dancing, and it has been bred for many years. A fragrant tea is mellow and elegant, and it enters the heart and spleen. Rainy world, recovery, renewal, cool summer.
I like rainy days, not only because I see the perfection in the rain, but also because I am immersed in it. Every rainy season, we will be very careful. Beauty lies in nip in the bud, and rain brings positive results. Sadness caused by disasters and dereliction of duty can be found everywhere. Walking on thin ice, be careful and be foolproof. So I can calm down, appreciate its beauty, appreciate and be grateful. Every time I enter my heart, it seems to be a sublimation in my life situation. Aside from the triviality, watch the rain fall naturally and listen to the sound of the rain.
Some people say, "The most beautiful thing is not the rainy day, but the eaves that shelter you from the rain." Listening to the quiet rain and watching the flowers fall from the window, I seem to have entered another world to enjoy the beautiful you and me inside. Will you come? Come with me!
roll up your trouser legs and wade across the river; Under the umbrella, throw stones and drift; Under the hibiscus tree, moss is felt; Grass house by the river, listening to the sound of frogs; In the mountains and rivers,