Hazy drizzle The rain was falling softly, and the dry branches of the trees had a hazy light green color. The rain dripped down the tree tops and turned into a series of watery notes. Below is a philosophical essay about rain, please read it. Philosophical prose about rain: Apricot Blossom Spring Rain Recalls Jiangnan
The apricot blossoms have fallen away, leaving only a yellowish memory, soaked in the tenderness of Jiangnan. When everything is still confused, the spring rain brings silky lingering like a dancing dancer. Looking across the Yangtze River, it's like a budding dream. Thousands of miles of blue are hazy in the lingering silk, just like the purity of Utopia and the tranquility of Taoyuan. The wind was not blowing, and only a faint confusion swayed the green cover of the lotus pond, touching the misty villages in the distance, ushering in an unprecedented fairyland-like dream. The ticking spring rain fell and the brewing clouds in the sky beat on the vast earth, as softly as beating on the rising thin sand. Jiangnan brings melancholy of apricot blossom rain and sadness of spring rain.
Perhaps, I have never thought about walking to the south of the Yangtze River in the misty and rainy days to pick up the color of rice and the fragrance of flowers that I have longed for. I also don’t know how to step on the stone bridge that has appeared in my mind many times. How to watch Wupeng gradually disappear at the end of the river. The memory of Jiangnan Dream only depicts that longing in this rainy season. The plums are red and the apricot blossoms are all over the branches. I once wanted to walk through the falling light red hand in hand and chase the deep romance, but I didn't want to encounter the chaos and desolation of the world.
Step on the bluestone slabs, listen to the deep ringing of the bells, and walk through the long streets and lanes in the misty and rainy season. I never thought about the red paper umbrella floating by, I just wanted to see the moss-covered walls and the green face of the smooth and shiny stone steps. Looking at the sky, the lead-colored curtain is crumbling, and the wind blows down the raindrops. How peaceful the ancient city must be amidst the ticking rhythm. The raised eaves and hanging tiles allow raindrops to form a clear stream and fall in front of you. Looking at the rain through the rain, I don't know whether it's the clearness of the rain that has shaken my long-term nerves, or the natural brightness of the stone wall, which makes everything pure. It's like the lingering meaning of ancient times that makes people unable to bear to look away.
Catkins are flying, and with the name of the oriole, a roll of rich ink is opened. The village in the distance seems to be an endless river, gently turning into hazy smoke in the attachment of the sunset. When the smoke rises, it's like fairy energy descending from the sky, covering thousands of miles in just that thin line. In the distance are not only the returning geese, but also the approaching darkness. The first light flashed in the village, and it was unknown whose call gave birth to the stars in the sky. The night in the south of the Yangtze River is like a solemn old man, but also like a beautiful ***, playing out ancient legends in the flickering starlight, swaying the flickering thoughts.
Philosophical essays about rain: Rain never ends
"What's wrong with this day? It was sunny just now, why is it pouring now?" The rain is coming. It came out of the blue.
Leaning at the window, looking at the blue-grey smoke screen above, listening to the sound of rain, "tick-tick-tick", the rain flows down gently, as if a drop of water has fallen slightly from the face of the sky. Bitter tears, the leaves were beaten by tears, breathless, and the sky did not give it bright color. Gloomy, sad, lost.
The rain was falling, and every pothole in the ground became a gathering of tears. People held umbrellas, their faces showing helplessness and disgust towards the rain. Even though they held umbrellas to avoid the rain, the rain still slipped into the clothes room. People always want to choose a shortcut to their destination, not wanting to give up or get hurt, but what they are waiting for still contains a kind of disappointment and desolation. The rain finally flowed into the soles of the shoes. It was dark...
During this period of the last few cries of rain, the rain stopped and the tears stopped. The sky wiped away tears, the sun came out again, the leaves shook off the fatigue and heavy burden all over the body, and the remaining water on the ground slowly flowed away. In an instant, the sky turned blue, the road became straight, and my heart broadened. The freedom that people long for has also begun, and the sky is blue...
A rain has come, does it only bring sorrow? No, it is not. Rain is like a mark in life, marking a period of your past. He is the embodiment of frustration and failure, he is the witness of pain, and he is a thorn on the road of youth. Even though he has too many shortcomings and imperfections, the value behind him is immeasurable.
No one can escape rain, and no one can fully obtain youth. Difficulties, no one can avoid injury. After the rain, the fresh air and the fragrance of hope also come back. ——The beauty of these is completely reserved for those who fight hard and stand upright in the rain. This is a process. When you think the road ahead is easy, you will be surprised at the difficulty behind it. When you think hardship can be avoided at will, you will regret the overwhelming happiness. When you achieve a small step of success, you will be as proud as the sky. Before the rain, during the rain, after the rain. Suddenly looking back, I realize that love is not far away from you.
The rain left, but only for a paragraph. The flute of hope is playing, but everything changes rapidly. While you're enjoying the sunny day, don't forget that the next rainy day is coming. Please don't forget: the rain never ends. Philosophical prose about rain: Feelings on rainy days
Early in the morning, get up.
When I opened the curtains, I realized that it was raining heavily outside the window. The water on the ground formed a stream, slowly flowing to the sewer mouth.
The rainwater rushed outward from the water outlet pipe at the window edge, spraying and slapping against the bluestone floor, forming a water column with a popping sound. It is suddenly near and far away, from left to right. This situation reminds me of the first rush to the crown in Yue Fei's "The River is Red". It scours the slate, leaving it cleaner than any other. Bubbles were bubbling on the slate, this bubble popped up, that bubble burst, popped again, burst again... These bubbles didn't seem to get tired, but I didn't have the temperament to continue watching their performance. Because the tiger of the high school entrance examination has not left me yet. I'm worried, scared. Although my usual results were pretty good, when it came time to practice, I was almost intimidated. This tiger blocked my way. I was confused and didn't know if I could cross it and walk to the door of the high school.
I feel so annoyed, especially today, the rain and the sound of the rain are falling and ringing in a boring way. I usually don't like rain, but now I hate rainy days even more. My originally bad mood was completely dampened by the rain, making me feel even more uncertain about the future. The candle of hope seemed to be extinguished by the rain.
I just stood here in a daze for a long time. Before I knew it, the rain had stopped. I woke up from my trance and accidentally discovered a rainbow in the sky between the clouds. I couldn't help but think of the old lyrics: "How can you see the rainbow without going through wind and rain? No one can succeed casually..." "Isn't it?" I asked myself: "It's just that I didn't work hard. This shows that you He is capable and capable of success!" At this moment, my heart suddenly became enlightened and my mind became much clearer. Suddenly I felt confident and thought of an advertising slogan: "Believe in yourself, I can!"
I opened the window and let the breeze blow my short hair. Its fragrance of earth made me find myself again. The wind got stronger and messed up my hair, but I didn't care. What greeted me was the breath of the wind. Does it matter if you fail in the high school entrance examination? My goal is to learn knowledge and look for traces of knowledge.
At this time, my heart was surging, and I wrote this sentence: "The important thing about the road of life is not the end of the road, but the scenery along the way.
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