The poem about the stone road is 1. There are poems about stone roads, poems about rain and poems about red umbrellas.
Rain Alley
Author: Dai Wangshu
Holding an oil-paper umbrella alone
Wandering in the long, long
Lonely rain lane
I hope to see
Like cloves.
A girl with a grudge.
She does.
Clove-like color
Lilac fragrance
Lilac sadness
Mourn in the rain
Sad and confused
She lingers in this lonely rain lane
Hold an oil-paper umbrella
Like me
Like me.
voicelessly
Cold desert, melancholy, and melancholy.
She approached quietly.
Get close and throw again.
Breathing eyes
She floated by.
well
As sad and confused as a dream.
Floating like a dream
Dingxiangyuan
I missed this girl.
She walked away silently, walked away.
A ramshackle hedge.
Walk through this rainy path
In the sad song of rain
Remove her color.
Scattered her fragrance.
Disappeared, even hers
Breathing eyes
Lavender melancholy
Holding an oil-paper umbrella alone
Wandering in the long, long
Lonely rain lane
I hope to float over.
Like cloves.
A girl with a grudge.
2. Poems with stone roads, rain and red umbrellas
Rain Alley
Author: Dai Wangshu
Holding an oil-paper umbrella alone
Wandering in the long, long
Lonely rain lane
I hope to see
Like cloves.
A girl with a grudge.
She does.
Clove-like color
Lilac fragrance
Lilac sadness
Mourn in the rain
Sad and confused
She lingers in this lonely rain lane
Hold an oil-paper umbrella
Like me
Like me.
voicelessly
Cold desert, melancholy, and melancholy.
She approached quietly.
Get close and throw again.
Breathing eyes
She floated by.
well
As sad and confused as a dream.
Floating like a dream
Dingxiangyuan
I missed this girl.
She walked away silently, walked away.
A ramshackle hedge.
Walk through this rainy path
In the sad song of rain
Remove her color.
Scattered her fragrance.
Disappeared, even hers
Breathing eyes
Lavender melancholy
Holding an oil-paper umbrella alone
Wandering in the long, long
Lonely rain lane
I hope to float over.
Like cloves.
A girl with a grudge.
3. Description of Qingshiban Road
The road seems to be very old and dark blue, and the passage of time has left a deep mark on it.
Slowly, slowly, extend into the distance. This place may be quiet. It's really hard to find a quiet place in Fenghuang ancient town.
It has long been full of secular and charming fragrance. And this quiet alley was discovered by accident.
Here, the thick water vapor in the south of the Yangtze River, like an ancient ink painting, makes people feel calm and simple. On both sides of the road are some old houses, blue-gray eaves and dripping eaves. The low corners are covered with moss and smell damp.
Walking on a long road, I suddenly saw some Miao grandmothers carrying bamboo baskets and holding some garlands in their hands. The garland may have been soaked in the Tuojiang River, which is clear and still occupies some glittering and translucent water drops.
They spoke Miao language that I didn't quite understand and walked briskly. Black cloth shoes stepped on the bluestone road, and there was no sound. Walk slowly, walk slowly, so there is no end.
I suddenly remembered the girl who was as sad as cloves in Dai Wangshu's Rain Lane. Lilac color, lilac fragrance, lilac sadness.
I guess that girl must have clear eyes. She will be so quiet, like a standing kapok. Now, I am the only one in the whole alley. Close my eyes, and the refreshing wind is blowing from me, with the unique moist breath of Jiangnan, blowing my thin hair in the wind.
Seeing a mossy bridge, I walked up and suddenly felt time to go back. Back in the stormy Song Dynasty, I became a poet, standing on the bridge with my gown standing in the wind. Light smoke, light fog, light scenery, light people.
Behind the carved ebony window frame, I am afraid that Iraqis who used to be like water vapor in the south of the Yangtze River will lament when the window faces the moon. Blue walls, blue eaves, blue roads, blue dreams.
The water vapor that has shrouded this bluestone road for thousands of years is now vaguely scattered in front of our eyes. Walking, I suddenly felt that the moist breath was mixed with a faint fragrance.
I crouched down and saw patches of jagged weeds growing on the edge of the wet corner. Among the weeds, there are two small plain wildflowers with milky white and slightly blue stamens. A faint fragrance, a shallow blue, and a smile like water in the south of the Yangtze River are blurred among the grass and trees.
The wind is still blowing quietly and the whole road is so quiet. Suddenly I heard a string of silvery laughter and looked up. It turned out to be several beautiful Miao sisters, singing beautiful Miao folk songs in their mouths, and the high silver ornaments on their heads echoed with their beats, making a crisp sound.
Walking on this road, I think: this bluestone road has experienced thousands of years of wind and rain, and I don't know how many people have walked like me and walked slowly. Maybe a touch can shake off the whole story.
Young people with thin sunshine, lilac-like girls, and them, the old people who accompanied the ancient town through the wind and frost. They sit at the door, pulling some home-cooked dishes, or planning meals for their families after a busy day in the kitchen.
In a blink of an eye, the smoke from the kitchen filled the whole alley. Go any further and you will come to the end.
I turned around and watched the sunset burn the whole sky, but the dark bluestone road continued to extend into the distance and was finally submerged in the last afterglow. The last bluestone road My dad called and said that the last bluestone road in town was also replaced by cement road, so it is convenient to drive home in the future.
There is joy in the tone. Putting down the phone, I can't help but sigh: the last Qingshi Road has finally disappeared in the construction of modern civilization.
In my childhood, I liked to run and jump barefoot on the quiet bluestone board in the town. When the soft sole touches the hard and smooth bluestone, a coolness will spread from the cool and slippery sole to the heart, and then spread from the heart to the whole body.
The wind always passes through the alley at the right time, leaving a faint fragrance of flowers. Stretching out tender little hands, chasing the rain, swallows happily slipped through a long string of transparent rain curtains under the smoky gray eaves, and pearl-like raindrops jumped naughtily on the delicate skin.
Crotalosaurus braided his hair up and down with the glittering spray, swinging from side to side, chasing and playing. The skirt covered with small flowers blooms delicate pink flowers on the wet and shiny bluestone board, which is in sharp contrast with the ancient gloomy town.
Rain is really the best pianist, playing the sounds of nature for my childhood and the quiet alleys on the gray ripples. The green moss in the corrugated room was attracted, and the birds hiding from the rain under the eaves couldn't help fiddling around, as if to break free from all constraints and join the carnival in the rain.
Up to now, every time I think of that scene, the coolness will still come to my heart, and the joy will still ripple in my brow. However, my father's joy deeply hurt my homesickness that I couldn't find in my heart.
I don't know or understand my father's deep feelings for this bluestone road, and I never dare to ask. It is said that this bluestone road was built by Kuomintang troops during the Anti-Japanese War. During this period, a handful of desperate Japanese soldiers destroyed the peace of the town.
Grandma, as a good family, was frightened and crazy by the inhuman Japanese soldiers on Qingshi Road. I remember when my grandfather was alive, I was never allowed to play on this bluestone road, but when I was a child, I naturally couldn't understand why my grandfather who loved me so much arrogantly deprived me of my rare happiness.
My father, brother and sister were born after my grandmother went crazy. I can't imagine how my father grew up. My father never wanted to mention it, and he never heard of it from my uncle and aunt. Although grandma instinctively takes care of the child as a hen loves a chick, she refuses to breastfeed the child.
After grandma went crazy, grandpa left the store behind. He is addicted to smoking and drinking all day, and his family is getting worse. In the end, he even sold his grandmother's dowry in exchange for wine money, and finally ended his drinking life early. However, in the days of growing up, grandma unexpectedly became sober and not so crazy, but she never walked on Qingshi Road or passed by. Until her death, people carefully carried her on the broken bluestone road and staggered out of peace.
4. Sentences describing paths and stone steps
Only the narrow path between the cliffs, like melons and vines, twists and turns, string the family together.
The country road twists and turns, like a naughty child playing tricks on people, sometimes showing a little trace and sometimes disappearing.
A rugged stone step road winds up, and pine and cypress stand upright on both sides of the stone step, covering the sky and forming a natural green passage.
Deep in the dark mountains, there is a stone road, which twists and turns, like a winding floating belt.
Numerous criss-crossing paths, in the mountains, in the canyons and in the rivers.
The path follows the valley, passes through the pine forest, twists and turns, like a light-colored belt, winding around the emerald mountains.
This winding road, like an endless long rope, winds around the mountainside, passes through the hills, climbs up the swamp beach with residual snow and disappears into the distant horizon.
The mountain road is as narrow as a narrow intestine, winding and full of fallen leaves. From time to time, it encounters overflowing mountain springs and its feet are slippery.