Misty rain on Qingshiqiao is a poem divorced from ancient rhyme. Although it is far away from the glory of the past, in this warm picture, people will deeply feel a different Jiangnan charm, which is like a dream, the search for past lives. I have imagined the touch of Jiangnan countless times, wondering whether the delicate misty rain is as spotless as described in ancient books, whether the red face under the umbrella is covered with a pair of tears that make people love, whether the story in the rain is really as soft and lingering as the poet recited, and whether the blue bricks and green tiles bearing the fading years will make the poet linger.
Maybe she is just a dream, a dream after a misty rain. Whenever the drizzle gently falls to the tip of the pen, the closed heart will quietly open between dreams and waking, and then let the past tenderness in the misty rain in the south of the Yangtze River slowly continue in this endless sky.
I have never been to Jiangnan, but I don't think Jiangnan is a strange place. It seems that whenever the drizzle sneaks into the night, the misty rain in the south of the Yangtze River will come as scheduled. At this time, the original tired footsteps will forget the distance of this rainy lane in this poetic ancient town, stop and go, and more is a lingering misty rain and a pleasant bath of ancient rhyme.
One day, or a rainy night, a weak drizzle dripped into the depths of my heart with the wind, so a Jiangnan ink painting, a beautiful sentence and two graceful wisps of kitchen smoke fainted on that pure white rice paper and sang the tenderness of dreams in that distant ancient rhyme.
The beautiful scenery in the south of the Yangtze River entrusts the feelings of poets from ancient times to the present, and misty mist is the source of inspiration for poetry. However, this misty and rainy poetic style and semi-humid rhyme are inevitably mixed with sadness. This is just a dream, a familiar but strange dream. Every scene in the dream, every passerby, is stuck in my heart. Blue Moon's beautiful face and beautiful dance steps are repeated, on a rainy night, beside the bluestone road in the south of the Yangtze River. In the dreamland, there is a girl with an oil-paper umbrella. She is waiting for the agreement of past lives, blooming tenderness under the umbrella. The flute in the dream is melodious, as well as the drizzle outside the dream, the purples dripping in front of the steps, and the silent love.
On the empty steps, the rain is silent, and the fragrance of tea lingers. Jiangnan misty rain dream, umbrella in the rain. How many sad stories began here, how many pen and ink dripped in the misty rain, how many tender feelings, how many touching pictures were engraved on the bluestone of Jiangnan, an ancient town full of dreams. All this may only be settled when the next drizzle comes, and maybe she will always be just an intoxicating fragment. The picture of escaping from the dream to the reality is like the moment when the drizzle drops on the cheek. In that endless dream, I thought that the beautiful image that emerged in the misty rain in the south of the Yangtze River was dripping in the love of this life and pursuing the past life. The misty rain in the south of the Yangtze River, the inevitable rain lane and the inevitable oil-paper umbrella.