Standing by the high stone arch bridge with a folded umbrella and watching the rain fall on the clear lake, my heart is often deeply touched. Time seems to stay at this moment, and my heart stops beating with the noise and bustling style in my eyes. Some sadness fell on the quiet lake with the rain beads.
Free flying flowers are as light as dreams, and endless silk rain is as thin as sorrow. This rain charms the scenery in the south of the Yangtze River and renders poetic romance. This rain, if autumn leaves fly, is scattered into mottled light and shadow, scattered in the depths of time.
I don't know when I began to like the rain, like walking in the rain, like blowing a breeze in the rain, like breathing fresh air in the rain, like remembering the past in the rain. Every rainy day, I am always used to walking in the rain with an umbrella, watching the messy pictures in the rain, watching the hurried footsteps of pedestrians, watching the ripples of rain dripping on the water, and watching the romance of rain hitting the banana.
Walking in the rain, I often think of many poems about rain, which are sad, romantic, lonely and melancholy. Different rain renders different artistic conception and depicts different artistic conception. It is sad to hit the banana in the rain, but it is sad to lie in the wind and listen to the rain. Since ancient times, rain always seems to be associated with sadness and loneliness. Walking in the rain, we inadvertently infected with the sadness of the rain.
"The drizzle is wet, and the grass hates every year. Smoke locks the phoenix building, infinite. " A person walking in the rain, thinking about something you said, will feel inexplicably sad. I often reach out from under the umbrella to catch the falling raindrops. I always hope that my outstretched hands can hold this coolness, and I always hope that the temperature of my palm can warm this coolness. I hope there will be you in the depths of time.
Looking up at the sky, I always feel that it is raining all over the sky, but you have been walking for many years. I often think of myself when I was young, and you who love rain as much as me; I remember that rainy night, when we first met in the pavilion by the moat. Think about jean carrey, the hero of the movie Singing in the Rain. He made us gasp in admiration and danced freely and wildly in the streets in the heavy rain. Think of your handsome figure walking on the winding stone steps of Xishan Park in a sea soul shirt, think of the south of the city, think of Xishan, think of railways and crossings, think of our laughter when walking in the rain; Think of the pot of fragrant jasmine you gave me when you left, and the "rain" you sent me in your letter; Thinking of the misty and rainy Xizi Lake, we have a group photo of youth; Think of the pine and cypress we planted at the foot of Beishan Mountain in the rain. ...
San Mao said, don't say, don't say, it's wrong to say it. Indeed, the past has become untouchable because of one person's participation, and those bits and pieces related to you are unforgettable because of your participation. Sometimes I feel particularly touched, and I always feel that walking in the rain is closest to you. Sometimes I will stand in the street on a rainy night, hoping to suddenly see you, coming to me with an umbrella, standing in front of me with a warm smile ... why say more? For you and me, once we stop and look back, it is a profound understanding. Once we stare and smile, we have a keen emotion.
On a summer afternoon, have you heard the news that jasmine blossoms? When I miss you, I have asked you this question in my mind more than once. I really want to know, you have been waiting for a long time in the depths of time. Do you still remember the woman you once called Jasmine, and whether that old appearance will emerge in every rainy night meditation?
Tonight, sitting alone in the room, listening to the sound of rain banging on the window lattice in late autumn, listening to the sound of wind and rain, listening to beautiful music, you floated to your heart again. Gently shake this cup of jasmine tea in your hand. In the rising water vapor, the white flowers are more pure and shy against the green tea. Elegant floral fragrance and tea fragrance are intertwined, which moistens not only the heart.
The drizzle smells of jasmine. On this quiet night of drizzle, when I lightly typed this line on the keyboard, my thoughts turned into rain and floated in the night sky. The words left in the past jump between the fingers and surround the heart.
The years are quiet, and the smile is safe. Opening the floodgate of memory, it seems to be back to the time when I was in Na Yue, as if I saw the fragrant jasmine you gave me again, clean and lovely on a drizzly night. The past is always deep in my memory, reminding me with an innate attitude and persistence that there is a kind of existence in life, called once.
In this drizzly late autumn night, in the depths of time, I quietly searched and burned the bits and pieces of the past. Over the years, I bent over to pick up warm fragments about words. It turned out that time passed quietly, and it was the original you that became clearer in the memory film.
Tonight, my thoughts are flying. I think of the days when we were accompanied by writing, the charm you explained to me, the fact that you encouraged me to learn writing, and the past when you held my hand in the literary palace. I fell into deep thought again and again. Slowly open the collection of Xi Murong's poems for many years. On the slightly yellowed paper on the title page, the beautiful and elegant letters still exude ink: If you are in full bloom, the breeze will come.
Looking back, the years are old. The old days were more like this fragrant jasmine tea. It has experienced severe cold, vicissitudes and hardships. It is thick and sophisticated, persistent and considerate, emitting a long and mellow fragrance with color at the end of the years.
If you are in full bloom, the breeze will come. Tonight, when my thoughts come to mind again, I hope you can feel how much I hope that when I write these words with my heart, I hope that in the dim light, at the moment when I look back, you used to be like a warm spring breeze.