Listen to the rain and write poems by leaning against the window.

There is no fixed format for listening to the rain by the window. Modern poems generally describe it like this:

Listening to the rain by the window, half the time, half the rings.

Sitting quietly in front of the window, listening to the sound of rain beating on the window lattice, the lingering sound of wind and rain, the sound of water splashing on the cold slate, the dense acacia in the rain curtain and the sound of a lotus flower blooming in the rain, I knew that it was the heart that time slowly unfolded.

Or maybe.

Listen to the rain by the window, listen to the voice of bloom!

Turn the fleeting time into poetry, pear blossoms are like snow for a while, and ink is a thin shadow of misty rain for a while.

It was the waiting of past lives. I used time to paint a picture, depicting the prosperity of a fleeting time, leaving a blank.

How many complicated stories, calmly getting old, standing on the stranger of fleeting time, looking at the distant mountains and red tiles and white walls; Looking at the past, it is thin and prosperous; Looking at the cold moon like an eyebrow, looking at the mountains.