Even if there is red dust besides red dust, even if there is no end at the end of the road. Even if I am as thin as a leaf, I will drop by. Because of half a century of love, I have long been lovesick. I'm still blocking the rain with a paper umbrella, but I'm afraid your name will be wet into deep and shallow tears, which will remind me of the only pain in my heart. From then on, I can't hold your figure to keep warm, or even walk through this rainy lane.
Alleys have become markets, just like my broken heart. There is only the loneliness of a pool of rain hitting bananas, the melancholy of a place where leaves are blown by the wind, the sadness of a person drinking on the moon, the sad, sad and confused story outlined by a girl with faint sadness, and an endless singing in the rain.
Whether you have turned into a butterfly or not, those unforgettable memories have long been abandoned in my heart, drawing on my blood. Until the day when I suddenly grow old and sleep in my grave, you will still be pure as ever and dance lightly on my soul. The sun and the moon go round and round, even after a thousand years, the beauty, color, fragrance, sadness and even sighing eyes at the beginning of the encounter still come as scheduled. The rhythm of poetry and words echoed in my heart.
I believe that the encounter and encounter in the vast sea of people may have already doomed my concern and waiting in this life. I want to finish my unfinished wish before the end of my life-to hold an oil-paper umbrella and stay together in the long and lonely rain lane. I'm not leaving until you come.
Waiting is a painful pleasure. I found that when I turned into a dead tree, I could already hear the sound of bark peeling off by the wind, as if it were a distant sound, so tragic and desolate. When it comes to an abrupt end, I will fall down and turn my infatuation into a swan song. In the next life, I will turn my body and soul into a flower that can only dream of you once in this life-lilac, still waiting for you here.
Maybe one day you will be late, maybe you will be surprised that there is a flower standing alone beside you. Pure as you, fragrant as you, even with your sad memories. The feeling of deja vu will make the long-lost heart beat to you, vaguely recalling the poem "Lilacs are sad in the rain"?
However, after you finally smiled, you left and never looked back. After laughing, the flowers behind me quietly withered and withered, leaving only a few drops of tears of despair and the memories of the purple stranger in the dust slowly lingering in the air. ...
Xiang Wenxiang/Yi Xue Great Wall
I have been sleeping in this rainy lane for thousands of years.
Only for the promise of the afterlife.
I was awakened by Ding Dong Ding Dong's voice.
Gently lift your eyes.
In front of us is a rainy world.
You come from the other side of the world.
Changed the appearance of previous lives
But it is still an elegant appearance.
Those cold eyes
It's obviously an agreement of my previous life.
In a hurry; You hurried through this rainy lane.
Ignore everything around you'
I stood in the rain.
stretch out one's hand(s)
I want to catch you in a hurry.
I'm afraid you have forgotten.
Forget me who met you in my last life.
Gently, a gust of wind blew.
It lifted my long hair.
Gently brushed your cheek.
It brushed away your indifference.
Wake up your sleeping soul
done
You stare at me with tears on your face.
Eyes full of bitterness.
A full face of pity and surprise
I know; I know
You have remembered our last meeting in Rainy Lane. The girl on the balcony will have problems. When you least expect it, she suddenly broke into your heart and caught you off guard. That's the alley in my memory. That's a rainy lane, that's a narrow rainy lane. There is no plain clothes girl like lilac, only my hometown elders. In my dreams, I often go back to that alley, where my childhood dreams are recorded. That's where dreams begin. I vaguely remember that at noon on a sunny day, I woke up from my sleep, yawned, then drifted off and smelled a fragrance of flowers. I don't know who picked the wild flowers nailed to the door in the wild and who nailed them to my door quietly. He (she) not only gave me a bunch of flowers, but also gave me the sweetness in my sleep, the fragrance after waking up, and an excellent mood. I think before I wake up, he or she has walked out of the alley where I live. That alley is so short, so short, as short as an early morning yearning. My morning light is so naughty that it makes me laugh happily. I feel something whispering in my ear. This is the sound of the morning sun. I felt something kissing my cheek again, and I knew it was sunshine. What slipped into my face? It's my tears. Am I touched by the morning light? No, what moved me was the bouquet of flowers and the people who offered them. I finally know that there are still some people in this world who care about me and my lonely soul. So he sent me a bunch of flowers and his heart at the same time. This is not just a bunch of flowers, this is a beating heart. I remember I often walked in that alley, and I knew there was my family there. They are my childhood memories and my attachment when I grow up. Today, I walked in that alley again, but unlike before, this time I returned to the haunted place in my dream. I vaguely saw my uncle, my aunt, my uncle, my brother, standing or sitting, all fixed in that short alley. So I went over, and some of them were eating, and nothing changed because of my arrival. Still eating, just looking up at me, I walked over, quietly, quietly. Time stood still at that moment. Folks, I think of you again. I saw you in my dream. Of course I know this is just a dream, because I am far from home. Folks, only in my dreams can I see you so close. I don't know if you will blame me for this, because I just walked by quietly without saying hello to you. I don't think so, because you are my hometown. Why didn't I get a greeting? Because it was just a dream. It's raining in the rain lane. It's a rainy morning. At that time, I was too young. I only remember that it was a rainy morning. I walked in that short rainy lane. I won't meet any girls. The candy in my hand is not finished, but it is getting less and less. I know, just like all those years when I was in this alley. Although sweet, it is getting shorter and shorter. There is smoke in the rain, and everyone in the chimney is smoking and leaning with the wind. Jiangnan Rainy Lane Jiangnan, a wet name, has always been a green dream for me who has lived in the north for a long time. My yearning for Jiangnan and my special liking for Jiangnan once made me doubt that my ancestral home should not be in the cold north. When I read Dai Wangshu's Rain Lane in middle school, I almost decided that I was the girl with lilacs. I don't think the rain lane is in the north, but in the south of the Yangtze River. Only Jiangnan has a rainy lane. Qingshi Road glows blue in the drizzle, with tall old stone walls covered with moss on both sides. There should be a small stone arch bridge at the end of the alley. There is a boat rowing slowly under the bridge and a graceful one standing on the bow deck. . . . . . This is the Jiangnan in my dream, so real and so hazy, so kind and so strange. Oh, Jiangnan, I should come to see you again. I should find my own rain lane. Therefore, I chose Suzhou, because she is slender and elegant, because she is reserved and serene. When I arrived in Suzhou, the weather was particularly sunny. I stayed in a hotel and asked the waiter about the weather and when it would rain. The boy looked at me in surprise. He said that I was the most special tourist he had ever seen. I smiled and did not explain. Suzhou itself is made of rain. If there is no rain, it is like a girl without bright eyes and a flower without dew. Finally, I woke up one morning and found a drizzle floating outside the window. I happily put on the white cheongsam I bought in Suzhou, and then played a lavender oil-paper umbrella. When I walked to the hall, I asked the boy where there was an alley. He was obviously confused. He said there are many alleys in Suzhou, and I don't know which one to look for. I said the oldest, longest and quietest. He smiled, revealing a row of beautiful teeth. He said it was a little difficult, but he could tell me that there was an alley not far from here. He doesn't know if it is the oldest, but he thinks it is the longest and quietest. I smiled and thanked him. Just as I walked out of the gate, he told me that you are a tourist who really knows Suzhou. I found the alley, and the moment I walked into her, the world suddenly quieted down, and all the noise stopped, only me and this rainy alley. I walked in slowly, and the footsteps on the bluestone board were my long inquiry. I said to myself, "I'm coming." This alley is really long and quiet. I think it should be the oldest, at least in my heart. The rain all over the sky weaves a fine net outside my umbrella. I touch the soft and slippery moss on the stone wall with my hand, and the dark green behind me must be full of vicissitudes. I don't know what will be on the other side of the high wall, maybe a teahouse or a bustling city, but I think there must be a big house thousands of years ago, and there must be a small building in the house. There must be a lonely woman upstairs sighing at the window. Her sad eyes faintly hurt the loneliness of thousands of years through the boundless net. At the moment, she is listening to the monologue in my heart. I am that woman, you are my previous life, and I am your afterlife. The rain lane is so long and quiet, as if it were a tunnel leading to history. A thousand years ago, purple sadness became a faint lilac in this rainy lane. I am the girl who walks gracefully with an umbrella. I'm taking a deep breath, and I was taking a deep breath thousands of years ago. My limbs and soul have dissolved in this wet fog, and then they evaporate and float away together. . . . . . At this moment, the melody that has been sung in my heart for 10,000 times has faded into a voice-over, and the exquisite hand holding a fine porcelain tea bowl that has been painted in my heart for 10,000 times has been dizzy and dyed into the background. The world has been frozen in this rainy lane, and I am a slightly yellowed silhouette in this rainy lane. At this time, a burst of footsteps from far and near interrupted my desire. That is a girl walking leisurely with an umbrella. Just as we passed by, we all paused and smiled at each other. We are all wearing moon-white cheongsam and holding a lavender oiled paper umbrella. It is such a coincidence that two strangers wearing the same clothes meet in the rain at the same time and forget each other. At the moment of looking back, I suddenly realized that I had reached the end of the alley and time was changing here. There is a traffic jam outside the alley, and there is a silent and restrained watch inside the alley. History has quietly faded out, waving goodbye to me in the distant horizon, and the girl who smiled at me has long since disappeared. She is the spirit of this rainy lane, waiting here for thousands of years, just to pass me by today? Maybe she, like me, is here looking for a dream that has been lost for thousands of years?