In our daily study, work or life, everyone knows prose, right? Prose is a narrative literary genre that expresses the author's true feelings and has a flexible writing style. Have you ever learned about prose writing? The following is the spring rain prose in Jiangnan that I compiled for you. You are welcome to share it. Prose of Spring Rain in Jiangnan Part 1
Listen to the rain by the window, the rain is as gentle as someone’s footsteps, the rain is outside the window. Open the window, and the freshness of "a sparse curtain of rain and a light bloom of flowers" rushes towards you. Go downstairs. I held an umbrella and walked into the misty spring rain alone.
The patter of raindrops made a chaotic sound on the top of the umbrella, and a uniform and fine layer of smoke splashed on the ground. Walking gently among the mist, there is a thin charm, like a fairyland. My thoughts rise and fall with the water spray. A person walks in the rain and listens to his heart's content. Whether it is light or heavy, sparse or dense, he always has a consistent state of mind. Listening to this heavenly sound alone, I release the joyful or sad emotions deep in my soul and dissolve them into this heavenly sound. I feel refreshed and relaxed.
I listened to the sound of spring rain, and my heart, which was ups and downs in the world of mortals, was suddenly purified and infiltrated, becoming so clear and transparent. Who are those people who "listen to the spring rain in a small building all night"? Who is listening to this spring rain? Is Qu Libai listening? Is the magnificent Shangguan Wan'er listening? Is Xue Tao, who was reduced to a camp prostitute, listening? Is it the melancholy and tender Yu Xuanji who is listening? Is the passionate Liu Yong listening? Or is it still the graceful and hazy Li Qingzhao...
In the profound outline of history, who else has heard of the rainy charm of Jiangnan? The rain in the south of the Yangtze River has soaked into China's culture for thousands of years, and it has also cleansed the hearts of many people. How many people's souls have resonated harmoniously with the sound of the rain? The dancing pavilion and song stage that have experienced spring rain for thousands of years, the Zhi Ting Orchid on the Bank, the Jiangfeng Fishing Fire, the Xiaofeng Willow, the Human Face Peach Blossom... In an instant, it seems that they have all dived into this lingering emotion.
I walked in the apricot blossoms in the misty Jiangnan, like a walking tree, I stretched out my branches and let it touch me tenderly. A tree that has come from winter has not relaxed my mind and mood like this for a long time. Jiangnan under the drizzle is full of romantic scenes. I imagined that the lilac-like beauty in the rain alley would also come in the rain. And I, under that floral umbrella, read the clear sadness and lingering lingering like rain in her eyes. Who is close at hand? Who is at the end of the world? Who's on the brow? Who cares?
The rain fell on me slantingly, making it chilly. Stretching towards the green branches and leaves on the roadside, stretching your arms wetly, it gives people an extremely pure feeling, like the tender touch of a virgin's slender hands. The raindrops dripped down the fingertips and turned into a series of watery notes, exuding a refreshing fragrance, softly, as if afraid of disturbing the sweet dreams of passers-by. In this misty spring rain, in this fresh music, what else can stop the pace of hope?
Jiangnan in the spring rain is beautiful. The spring rain is falling in thousands of strands, gently and leisurely, and endlessly, moistening the branches and leaves and moistening things silently. Various unknown flowers in the flower bed are blooming one after another, spitting out gorgeous brilliance, soaked in crystal raindrops, like the delicate face of a baby.
On the other side of the water, there is a vast and gloomy sky, oppressive and threatening towards the rows of buildings. However, above the city, there is a layer of space that is surprisingly clear and ethereal, dividing the distant scenery. The contrast is extremely distant. There is the smile of the willow leaves blowing by the wind, and the whisper of the rain clouds passing through the sky. All the emotions are filled with the mist of the rain, and all the reveries and longings are in tune with the rhythm of the rain. Become vivid and vivid.
The spring breeze was gentle, the water was rippling, and a small boat floated on the water, appearing and disappearing. The swallow on the other side of the rain curtain seems to be about to cut out of the curtain, and the long willow ribbon wraps around its legs to prevent it from leaving... This scene can't help but remind people of "The slanting wind and drizzle will not stop" The poem "must return" comes. I don’t know how many people can understand this situation, on this day when the rain turns into poetry?
The water waves in the nearby lotus pond are already rippled by the breeze, with drizzle dripping on them, interlaced with various patterns, like the hazy ink paintings painted by Dan Qing. On the newly grown lotus leaves, water drops are rolling back and forth, sparkling and lovely. Several plants have quietly sprouted light red lotuses. In the clear spring rain, they look even more graceful and charming. Against the background of green leaves, they look like an otherworldly fairy, so beautiful.
Occasionally, a few umbrellas passed through my side, like smoke and spring gauze, and I was walking in a hurry, but I just walked along. In such a spring rain, it is a rare opportunity to enjoy this rain scene alone. Why do we say "single reward"? This is really an ordinary scenery, but from the hurried steps passing by me, I know who would be in the mood to appreciate the poetry of this spring rain? They are all rushing for fame and fortune, and in a hurry!
Who is willing to spend time in the caress of the rain, accept the moistening of nature, and taste the charm of this small scenery? This impetuous heart, because the world is covered with too much dirt, and many desires always hinder our transparent heart, we no longer have much patience to discover the beauty of nature.
Why not give up desires for the time being and let the rain in the south of the Yangtze River wash away the dust in our hearts and purify our souls, just like the spring rain in the south of the Yangtze River always cleanses the world for us.
The spring rain in the south of the Yangtze River is poetic and has a long lasting charm. Even if it penetrates the ink on the rice paper, how can it be freehand! Spring Rain in the South of the Yangtze River Prose Part 2
Spring Rain, I happened to turn to the poems of Yu Ji, a poet of the Yuan Dynasty, and was struck by the words: "The flying swallows are whispering again, the heavy curtains are still cold, who can send gold letters?" I am fascinated by the apricot blossoms and spring rain in the south of the Yangtze River to repay my husband's return. So under the lamp, I imagined that the south of the Yangtze River seemed to be more peaceful and beautiful in the mist of spring rain. Faintly beside my ears, the music of the spring rain in the south of the Yangtze River came slowly, mixed with the fragrance of apricot blossoms. At this time, the delicate and gentle Wu Nong's soft words in the streets and alleys are full of endless lingering.
When I was a child in the countryside, I lived in a very poetic mountain village called Meixi in Shenan. Next door to my old house was an apricot forest covering an area of ??over 100 square meters. This is a place called Xiu Niang Mu The house where the two girls live. Almost every year in March and April, when it rains, the lights from the house next door will often flash into my window. The mother and daughter are wandering among the apricot trees with a very elegant Mobil lamp, flashing. On. "Mom, if it rains so hard, will it knock off the apricot blossoms?" "It doesn't matter, spring rain is as precious as oil. A night of spring rain makes everything new." Those two lines of dialogue between her mother and daughter are still unforgettable to me, every time I think of the whispers between mother and daughter, and I always seem to feel that they are coming from outside, with some indifferent yet hopeful voices, making people suddenly enter an ethereal, poignant dreamland, as if that Clusters of apricot flowers are blooming red quietly and hard in the night rain! I leaned against the window and meditated, thinking that when the skylight peeked out from the white walls and black tiles, a beautiful and moving voice would come from the alley outside the window in the Ming Dynasty: "Selling flowers! Apricot blossoms..." When this sweet voice floated over At that time, although people were very tired, they still felt a refreshing fragrance.
This mother and daughter are usually like "hermits" in the village, rarely having contact with outsiders. They originally lived in Suzhou, but due to the bad luck of the men in the family, they were sent back to their place of origin for labor reform. Although there are many relatives and friends in the village, they are very indifferent to them and are always afraid of getting into trouble. This was the political atmosphere of the 1960s and 1970s. It is said that the girl's mother was an embroiderer, and her embroidery works are very famous in Suzhou. In particular, she was able to absorb the essence from the works of some masters of the Wumen School of Painting in the past, and embroidered them with landscapes, figures, flowers and birds, etc. The items are all exquisite and beautiful. One of her most proud works is the painting "Spring Rain with Apricot Blossoms", which is quite poetic in the Tang Dynasty. In the picture, the wall is printed with mottled dark green moss marks. In the apricot forest, there is an extra-long apricot flower that stretches out from the front of the courtyard wall. Trembling with the wind, a few small pink flowers bloomed quietly on the branches. At first glance, one can tell that this painting has the poetic meaning of "a branch of red apricot coming out of the wall", but she also embroidered a few light raindrops on the apricot branch with her slender hands and ingenious stitching... which made the whole scene... This piece of embroidery looks more tranquil and poignant, and one can't help but secretly guess how many unspeakable secrets and vicissitudes of time are hidden in it. It seems to be telling a love affair in the beautiful Jiangnan, and it seems to be indicting that person. The helplessness of a special era... No wonder the embroiderer is always so obsessed, sweet and thought-provoking every time she embroiders the apricot blossoms and raindrops. I often go up and play in the antique embroidery upstairs of my embroidery house. No matter what time it is, as long as the mother and daughter are doing embroidery work, I will be fascinated by it.
There is a phenomenon that is difficult to explain. Sometimes it is difficult for people's hearts to communicate. Even if they have been together for more than ten years, there will be times when they cannot say a single honest word. But sometimes it is easy to communicate. , we used "Xinghua" as a medium, and their mother and daughter and I became real "bosom friends". We often talk about some tragic and sweet past events in our youth, past events that are unforgettable and unbearable to look back on, as well as the poetic and picturesque meaning of "apricot blossoms and spring rain". Of course, in those days we had to carefully avoid sensitive political topics.
My parents also like Xiu Niang’s embroidery works, especially those with themes such as apricot blossoms and spring rain. People were very poor at that time. Whenever my father came back from the processing factory with some new rice, he would immediately ask me to get a small bamboo basket, measure a few liters of high-quality white rice, and then send me to Xiu's mother-in-law's house. Walking in the alley paved with bluestones, although the alleys were deep, they were straight and clean. I soon arrived at Xiu’s house. When the mother and daughter saw the new rice I brought, they were excited at first, and then kept being polite. Then they climbed up to the embroidery building and carefully pulled out a beautiful piece of embroidery for me. As soon as I saw the words on the embroidery, The apricot flowers were blooming red, and I suddenly felt that my father's goal had been achieved, and I felt a burst of joy...
Later, as I read more books, I began to understand the mood of my father more and more, and I was also able to understand the "apricot" "Spring Rain in Jiangnan" is so wonderful. I remember Zhou Shoujuan, a talented scholar from Shanghai during the Republic of China, once wrote about his thoughts on this aspect. At first, whenever the apricot blossoms bloomed, people in the south of the Yangtze River would often experience continuous spring rains that would not clear up, making them very agitated. After reading the sentence: "Apricot blossoms and spring rain in the south of the Yangtze River", I suddenly felt that it was wonderful and joyful. The south of the Yangtze River seemed more charming and the scenery was more wonderful. The complicated and lively world of "Apricot Blossoms and Spring Rains in the South of the Yangtze River" is not only liked by the ancients, but also by the embroiderers and their daughters, and my parents and I also like it.
This is because anyone will face countless rainy seasons in the past, present, and future. If the beautiful, warm, and hopeful red apricot flowers suddenly appear in the rainy season, how can it not make people feel relaxed and happy and then multiply? Infinite confidence.
Writing this, I remembered another interesting thing. A few years after the death of the embroiderer, an antique dealer came to my hometown to collect embroidery. His cultural level was not high, but he still had his own skills when it came to embroidery, such as Su embroidery, Hunan embroidery, Shu embroidery, Guang embroidery, and Gu embroidery. , Beijing embroidery, etc., they are clear-cut and seem to be very accomplished. My father is also a noble man. He didn't take this man's words seriously and wanted to test his eyesight. I deliberately took out a few pieces of embroidery of different styles, old and new, including the embroidery I had exchanged for rice, and asked him to appraise and appraise it. Unexpectedly, he turned out to be extraordinary. He immediately picked out the piece of embroidery with the apricot flower pattern and said to himself: "This embroidery has a concise composition, bright embroidery surface, tight pattern arrangement, and strong color contrast. It is Su embroidery." It's a masterpiece! Especially the apricot flowers, it's really a masterpiece of embroidery." His attitude was even more professional than the experts on TV today, which made us, father and son, stunned. It seems that the artistic conception of "Apricot Blossom Spring Rain" has long been engraved in the bones of Chinese people and has become the soul of many people. Even if you are a very ordinary and simple person, you will also be infected and influenced by this unique poetic and artistic conception. With. Because the meaning of this word has been accumulated and inherited for hundreds of years, it tells the world not only the beauty of Jiangnan, but also the infinite hope and vitality.
This also includes myself. I look at the bright and moist Jiangnan in the April sky in the world. The flower rain that comes late in the spring tide is beating the unique green tiles in Jiangnan, with a sound, ding ding. Dong-dong, dense and dense, this is the artistic conception of "the clothes are wet and the apricot blossoms are raining". People can't help but think of whether it is the falling flowers in the apricot forest that turn into rain, or the rain that destroys the apricot blossoms? At this moment, another Jiangnan woman walked down the long alley. She held an apricot flower on her pink and green skirt and wandered in the soft spring rain. As she walked, she sang the heart-touching song. Poetry:
You are a flower on a tree, a swallow
Whispering between the beams, it is love and warmth
It is hope, you are the world April day...
This is Lin Huiyin, a talented girl from the Republic of China, singing softly in the apricot forest. It seems that there are others, and it seems that they are my childhood embroiderers, right? At this time, my thoughts are wandering, but I can be sure that I am definitely not the only one in the beautiful and graceful Jiangnan at this time. They are also imagining the apricot flowers on the land of Jiangnan, and the pale pink petals, and the petals. The dripping spring rain. Prose of Chunyu in Jiangnan Part 3
Chunyu returned to her parents’ home. Jiangnan is her natal home forever.
The spring rain always precedes the lazy sunshine, waking up the sleeping people all night long, returning to the spring dream of Jiangnan, rustling and noisy. Her attentive footsteps, each stitch was fine, passed through the thick clouds, just like a Jiangnan woman threading needles and threads on embroidered shoes. She is like an old lady on an ancient loom, weaving the spring girl's new clothes. Early in the morning, I saw no embroidered shoes or new clothes, only her blatantly hanging a musty, wet, gloomy face in front of my window. If she is so delicate and delicate, why does she look so sinister? Did her husband's family bully her?
In fact, Chunyu is the best at using themes, and she is ever-changing, giving people in Jiangnan a myriad of imaginations. She is greasy, slippery, and covered in mink fur, like a cunning and bright fox. , making the pond become plump and radiant, making the willow waves become graceful, making the river become slippery, making the flower branches attract bees and butterflies... The only thing that remains unchanged is that she is wearing a wind cape and gliding along the ladder. The sky opens its flexible arms, stretches over thousands of mountains and rivers, and weaves ravines and wastelands. It nourishes the south of the Yangtze River with its unchanging humanistic atmosphere, which is elegant but not frivolous. She nourishes our ordinary life, allowing us to work poetically and heroically in the rain and fog; she moistens our simple days, with patches of colorful flowers overwhelming the sky, allowing our imagination to simply prop up the romance of the world. Heaven.
The spring rain contains the everlasting denseness and nostalgia. If I were younger, I would run wildly under the strands of embroidered hair in the spring rain, without any rain gear, just to catch a glimpse of her wet and delicate face in the mist. I wish I could stand on the top of the clouds and mist, welcome the spring rain, and feel the ice and jade from heaven. When she hits the rubble, it is like a classical and simple music event, or coming through the tunnel of time, like the sound of tinkling on carved porcelain. Crisp and melodious. Across the branches of the cottage, looking at the distant mountains and wilderness, listening to her guzheng playing the heavenly sounds, the sorrow that seemed to have been separated from the world turned into an eternal longing, watering the walls of our hearts like a tide. What a wonderfully crafted guzheng it is, and what a pair of breathtaking hands with water-sleeved sleeves. It’s really all kinds of graceful when you imagine it. I taste the melancholy of the spring rain falling under the eaves, just like the rosary beads in ancient temples and temples in the sound of wooden fish bells, cold to the bone, and every particle is decorated with Zen Buddhism. I appreciate the smiles on the tearful petals of the spring rain. She is the past tense of Jiangnan and the march of the present. Year after year, fireworks in March, spring goes and spring comes back, life is windy and rainy, and love is forever.
Spring rain always expresses the feelings of vicissitudes of life and writes about the fate of heaven and earth.
The wilderness and countryside are specious, rich and thick, with undulating mountains, rich tree colors, and vast expanse. A stirring spirit, a string of ancient quatrains, became translucent and fresh in the rain, hanging heavily in the branches and leaves of my soul, sweet and soaked into fragrant green tea; or bitter green fruits, After experiencing the purgatory of thought, it will also become a cup of old wine. Intoxicated by the embrace of spring rain, traveling between heaven and earth, I accidentally walked into the immortal painting of Jiangnan Yu. The ink and wash merged, looming, and contained a hazy beauty. Time seems to have spread for thousands of years, and a feeling of being a teenager with blue hair and gray hair permeated my daydreams. In fact, the spring rain, with its gentle power, contains a wet dream, a bright dream, a green dream, with dark willows and bright flowers, and dreams of distant mountains smiling, encouraging brilliance and turning into blooming flowers. She is lighter than fallen flowers, softer than people, and more real than dreams.
Chun Yu returned to her parents’ home. At this time of year, please come back to the place where my soul is moist.