In this poem, the role of rain, not pedestrians, opens the horizons of ramblers. Rain scattered everywhere, feeling the world.
After the four seasons, I am deeply touched by this autumn color with infinite regret.
Indeed, life is full of complicated words and noble truths, and only rain and soul always maintain a consistent tacit understanding-she harmonizes the strong colors of everything into a silent balance, which makes extravagance peel off and the truth surface.
And you and I may need a rain more, so that our thoughts can retreat from blind reality to silent hearts.
My season
Author: Ai Qing
I can't sit today.
On the park bench, watching pigeons.
Walk around the stone statue.
Only raindrops
Be a walker here;
Occasionally heard from the silence.
Its monotonous and long footsteps,
There is really an indispensable depression.