A long time ago, there was a little man looking forward to the gentle wind. However, gradually feel the wind, surprisingly soft.
Listen to the sound of the wind, blowing gently towards the little me. The last drop of rain finally ran to the endless horizon. When I went out, I found that the leaves seemed greener and the flowers smiled at the blue sky. When I stepped on the steps, I found that the soil was so soft that I suddenly remembered that they had just taken a bath. Looking up, the high mountain top is just a small black dot, as if within reach. Childhood, everything seems so simple and beautiful. ...
Listening to the sound of the wind, slowly blowing towards the real me that day. Every day, I am busy going to school like an ant. In class, listen to the teacher quietly and look at the ordinary world outside quietly. I have been thinking in my heart: one day I will be extraordinary! After class, I will chat and play with my classmates. When I got home, I left my schoolbag and ran away like a rabbit. In the evening, I will obediently spend dozens of minutes to finish all my homework and do it right. And every time I hand out papers, I always feel that Tsinghua Peking University is so difficult to take the exam?
Listen to the wind and blow hard at the door with holes. Cold body, in front of the computer, venting the flood of emotions. When the heavy corners of the mouth were raised, the devil came again. Helpless, two lips together again. With heavy footsteps, I climbed into the classroom. What else can I do? No, nothing can be done. The noisy classroom pulled me up. After cutting everything off, I sat in my seat, doing my homework, thinking and imagining ... suddenly a piece of paper floated down, but it was as cold as ice and as heavy as lead. After the above figures were directly ignored, the paper circled around the body and wrapped itself. Since then, the cold body has become even colder ... I have suffered too much, and what injuries have not been crossed? What pains have you never tasted? Maybe it's just that Naihe Bridge hasn't crossed yet. Looking at the Naihe Bridge in the distance, the whistling wind swept me and woke me up. I still have a lot of things to finish, and there are a lot of things that need me to finish. Tears, began to become pure, without any impurities.
Listen to the sound of the wind, rustling and blowing into the dark corner. As time goes by, there is a flower everywhere. ...
Sitting on the wooden chair in the yard, I began to listen carefully to the sound of the wind. "sasha vujacic ..." The breeze caressed everything in the world. The breeze rustled among the green leaves and the flowers floated quietly under the eaves. Everything is pleasant and quiet. At this time, I quietly enjoy the faint fragrance and moist coolness in the wind. The fragrance in the wind rises slightly, which makes people feel great. Everything in the world is infected by this freshness. People in the shade closed their eyes, and then the wind turned into a beautiful song without words, which made people sleep peacefully. "Shua shua ..." Naughty Feng plays with his friends in nature from time to time. The lake fell asleep peacefully, but the strong wind pulled him up. They are playing freely. The mirror-level lake is rippling now, and he is refreshed again! The cold wind blew off the maple leaves. In his deep and vigorous singing, I felt his exuberant vitality, ideal poetry and youthful passion. "Huhuhu ..." The wind suddenly blew. After such a blow, the already scarce leaves are even rarer. Dead branches and leaves were swept away by the strong wind. The wind roared like a cow! "Hoo hoo-"The trees are swaying in the wind, and the branches are beating in the air like wild whips. The sand on the ground suddenly rolled up, then flying sand and stones, choking people's eyes, pieces of paper bumping like headless flies, a plastic bag floating like a broken kite, and soon disappeared. All kinds of trees are twisted wildly, and the wind passes through the branches and leaves, whimpering again. Listening to the sound of the wind, you will have many novel experiences, and you will have such a state of selflessness. Listen carefully and you will find that nature is the most beautiful picture.
Standing on a high place, I just want to listen to the sound of the wind quietly and gain a touch. The wind is mixed with the heavy footsteps of westerners and the whistling sound of sand in the vast desert, and the time span is as long as thousands of years. Zhang Qian in the wind, in front of the vast soup farewell party, want to cry. A cup of warm wine into the intestine turns into sorrow. With a wave of his sleeve, he left from Chang 'an to the west with more than 100 followers. He knew that he was shouldering the heavy responsibility of contacting the big moon people who attacked the Huns. Outside Yumen, he stopped to look back. Inside Shanhaiguan Pass, it is still warm wind blowing gently. Outside the customs, the wind is biting. He listened to the sound of the wind; The lingering smell of relatives and friends. There are a group of people moving westward in the vast yellow sand. Perhaps this is a natural desire to deceive people. On the way, they were caught by Huns. From then on, outside the tent, in the cold wind, a herder looked around from time to time. Ten years of life and death, when people gradually forgot him, he miraculously escaped. On a night when the wind is howling. There is a voice that goes through thousands of years and continues for thousands of years, bringing a pathfinder's dream. Facing the ancient road in the sunset, Wang Zhaojun in the wind wants to stand on tiptoe and see Miyagi at the other end of the ancient road. The fox skin twisted gently, but it could not warm Hengtaili's shivering body; Pipa flicked and sang all the sadness in her heart. Facing the old scene, she couldn't help crying in the wind. The maid came forward to ask, but the way was that the wind blew into her eyes. "She went out from the Purple Palace to the desert, and now she is a green grave in the dusk". Will it be her ending? The trumpet suona sang and took her west. The breeze blows and the grass blows, but a woman's figure is reflected. In the sunset, her piano music drifted away and dissolved in the wind. Who is it? Hearing her happiness. There is a voice that goes through thousands of years and continues for thousands of years, bringing a weak woman's piano sound. Feng Zhiyuan in the wind, in the long yellow sand, loomed two figures, one large and one small. They shouted something to each other in the wind. "Who are you and where are you from?" A childish voice shouted, "I'm a teacher and I'm here to help you." The wind covered up their conversation and even deliberately smoothed their footprints with sand. That year, that day, he took root in this yellow land. I heard that people who live here can hear the song of sand, and he wants to hear it, too. Decades have passed, the original children have grown up, and the original mountain village has its original prosperity. At that time, the young man had silver hair and was blind. On the mound, he picked up the yellow sand and let it flow between his fingers like water. He heard his youth passing like an hourglass. Is the sand singing? Is the wind singing? Nobody knows. There is a voice that goes through thousands of years and lasts for thousands of years. It tells the story of a western worker. A gust of wind blew, a little cold and a little touched.
Listen to the sound of (raindrops)
It's always raining lightly in the new town recently, sweeping away the summer heat. Has arrived in beginning of autumn, also be regarded as autumn rain. Raindrops and breezes bring a little coolness, and a thin chill attacks people.
On my balcony, listening to the rustling rain, you have to be loaded to hear the rain. Although the ancients liked to rain on plantains, I still prefer Yuefang leaves with proper size, which sounds more pleasant and cadence.
There are more than a dozen banyan trees in the square, and the height of the treetops is just enough to reach the window. The breeze blew and the treetops swayed gently. Not only the tree but also the whole heart was washed away. If you listen to the rain by the small pond in the Music Square, it must be beautiful.
A burst of rain flowers suddenly reminded me of the lotus leaf in my hometown pond when I was a child. Occasionally, one or two lotus flowers were scattered, which was very thin and touching. Raindrops on the lotus leaves bring not only beautiful sounds, but also poetic pictures. On the green lotus leaf, raindrops either slide down or turn into the heart of the leaves and roll. Tingting's leaves are swaying in the wind, drizzling, red lotus, green lotus and ripples. This kind of visual enjoyment needs to happen to pass by, and it is too melodramatic to deliberately rush. I haven't heard the rain by the pond for a long time, just like the past years.
I don't know when it started, but the articles written by literati listening to the rain are always sad. Lu Fangweng's "Wake up at midnight and listen to the drizzling rain" is quite "Give them to the boy for good wine, and we will drown the disaster of ten thousand generations!" ; Daiyu's autumn window is rainy, "the night is full of tenderness, and the light is accompanied by tears." "I don't know when the autumn rain will stop, but I teach tears to sprinkle the window screen wet." Autumn rain is always accompanied by people's sadness. Daoxiang in good years is rarely talked about. It is really sad and pitiful.
I listened to the rain tonight, but I didn't feel any sadness. What fascinates me is the sound of rain, which is far and near, slow and urgent, and the small light opposite the screen window. It is a happy and warm family in the new town.
The cool rain brought calm to the hot summer night. Crack, raindrops beat on the screen window and made a rhythmic sound. It should be a beautiful picture outside: roses and roses in the garden are covered with water drops, like pearls, flowers and bones are more delicate and charming, showing sweet smiles in their sleep. Rain beads hit the green leaves, but this thin piece of green could not bear the "heavy" pressure, so the rain beads slipped down like a slide and fell into the embrace of the earth. The rain on the concrete floor merged into streams, and only the raindrops falling into small puddles fell in a very beautiful posture like divers, splashing water droplets.
The rain stained the shallow cage roses. The rain is getting louder and louder and more urgent. Maybe the wine-spotted bamboo will raise a glass to invite rain? You can sing to yourself, "I can't sleep at night, and I make tea again because of thirst for wine and heavy smoke"; Maybe Apple is playing the piano and it is raining at this time? It's like a picture in which pearls, large and small, are poured into a plate of jade. Maybe at this time, the headquarters is singing loudly? Although I haven't drunk, I still want to drink tea. I made a cup of osmanthus lotus leaf tea. Ah, the room is full of fragrance, and the room is full of fragrance.
So I simply turned off the light, lit a floating wax, set the teacup, and with the fragrance of tea and faint candlelight, accompanied by the rain outside the window, imagined the beautiful scenery of "Besides, after a night in Shan Yu, a hundred spring flowers were copied by trees". With this rain, this night, this tea thought naturally flies far away and has a deep memory. Hehe, this night is enough.
The breeze blew, the leaves rustled, and the rain beads huddled and scattered all over the floor. The constant voice is still the kind of intermittent voice. Listen carefully and it is ethereal and distant. Rain is a poet, writing poems without words with his heart, a philosopher, a musician, an artist who can write the most beautiful melody and make the world a better place through his hands.