The heavy rain makes people cry and worry.
misty rain is bitter and prosperous, breaking thousands of worries, wetting thousands of Chinese parasol trees, passing by in a wrong way, making a paper of spiritual deed hastily, and being parallel to the buildings again.
One person leaves a mystery, and the other person follows it all the way, leaving an iris song.
The rainy night is exquisite, and the songs are long. I go to the west building alone to mourn, and I look at the bleak red building and feel heartbroken. Fog, who is it? Persistent, and who is stubborn? One person in a word, one eye in a mystery, you paved the way for a lifetime of sorrow, and it is expected that it will leave a person for a lifetime. The broken bridge in the West Lake is as broken as snow, and the long white is cold and piercing. He risked his life for you and did not hesitate to disguise his true self under the mask. Did you know that he was in pain? Misty rain is in love with this life, and everything is sad, and the birds die young, leaving a damaged feather; Killed the cherry blossoms, leaving a stunning burial song.
a drop of rain spilled into the window lattice, which was round and transparent. Under the dim light, it was swaying with bright light and shadow. One person finally let go of his hand, and one person left behind with a smile, breaking the splendid scenery for thousands of years, drinking azaleas and crying, and singing partridges with low eyebrows. The reunion of fate, the parting of life and death, the forgetfulness of brothers, the indifference and loneliness, the lovesick red beans, the ink-dyed daisies ..... everything was lost in the silence of a misty rain, which wetted the heart and shattered memories. Listen! Broken notes, in this rain break, jumped over the last stroke of fate, leaving you and him with nowhere to talk about, two boundless lives and deaths, helpless, helpless, the sad silk that keeps being cut out of order is messed up with the sad east wind, and you are finally isolated from the heavy sandalwood coffin by one mistake, and become a handful of dust on a strange road, making mistakes in other people's lives.
the smoke from the kitchen is deserted, hazy and rainy, and the lotus root is cleaned when the line is broken, and the life returns to the Milky Way. That year, in the misty rain city of Furong in the south of the Yangtze River, the broken silk bead curtain was dizzy and rippled. Under the silk brocade of the years:
Stab one side in the lonely rain lane, hold an oil-paper umbrella and fight for the world with you in the next life ... misty rain sad prose 2
Spring rain is falling, bit by bit, misty rain is misty, the sky and the earth are covered by veils, and when you look up, the steep Xiushan is looming in the curling smoke, as if to be immortal. Cuifeng is concerned about Cuifeng, misty rain is scattered all over the place, and the world is just the same. Isn't the fairyland on earth just depicting its beauty!
The verdant peaks embrace a vast blue lake, and the stars are shining, just like the gentle love in the eyes of lovers. The breeze caresses the lake and touches whose heart. The ripples go round and round, and the years go round and round. Even if time changes and things change, can its beauty be eternal? Algae are swaying under the lake; The boat wandered silently on the lake; Wicker floats in the misty rain without a word; The breeze sighs in the misty rain in the south of the Yangtze River!
In rainy season, Jiangnan is like a married woman in a white wedding dress. Its beauty is thrilling, its beauty is exciting, and its drunkenness lingers. Visitors from far away are all fascinated by her beauty, and even her dreams are full of misty rain and green. There is a small bridge across the lake, where it lies quietly, curved like a smile in a lover, smiling, silent, rising from the moon, the times are changing, and the years are vicissitudes, still waiting silently in the years!
A floral umbrella, a pair of red cloth shoes and a white skirt. The woman walked lightly from the misty rain with an umbrella. Her lips were made of pink, her eyes were clear and innocent, and her face was flushed with a charming smile. The smile on her lips was as bright as spring. Although the misty rain in the south of the Yangtze River was beautiful, she was intoxicating!
The delicate jade hand holds the love of my life, and the love of my life snuggles under the broken flower umbrella. The two figures depend on each other and walk in the misty rain. The rain is oblique and wispy, and the intoxicating fragrance floats in the misty rain. Even the air is full of happiness, but the footprints of my feet are unconsciously drifting away and disappearing into the misty rain.
you once said that you love misty rain in the south of the Yangtze River! She is stupid enough to believe it! She walked across the small bridge with a broken umbrella, walked past the footprints, and waited for a lifetime in the misty rain! The misty rain is endless. In March in the south of the Yangtze River, it is silent in a silent life, but it hurts! Misty Rain Sentimental Prose 3
Outside the window, a curtain of misty rain hangs in front of your eyes, and inside the curtain, a cavity of thoughts fills your heart. The breeze is accompanied by drizzle, the wind is fluttering, the rain is raining, the wind walks gently with the rain, and the rain dances gently with the wind. The spring breeze dances, and the drizzle is wet and fleeting. How much I want to, I am always with you, and Chun Qing is with you every year. Just gazing at the place, misty rain remains, but I don't see anyone last year. What happened before the old love? I was so affectionate that I couldn't bear to look back.
The flowers are not in bloom, the spring is not red, the footsteps of winter are silent, and the footsteps of spring are coming. Time flies quietly, in a hurry. A winter's deep sleep has not awakened, a season's good dreams have not awakened, and the spring breeze has not awakened me, and the good dreams are still there; Spring rain spring rain doesn't surprise me, and my dreams are hard to continue. I am still immersed in the feelings of the evening, wrapped in frozen memories, waking up, tender feelings, and no trace of honey. Don't mercilessly criticize me in the passionate spring breeze, spring breeze in Ying Xiao Wo, why not marry the spring breeze in those days? Don't be cruel to let me drip in the spring rain, watch the spring rain and my tears, and let the spring rain share my sorrow.
Spring breeze and spring rain are always affectionate. When the wind is carrying rain, it sometimes kisses the little buds on the branches, and sometimes caresses the grass that pokes its head. Swallows are in pairs and whispering in the drizzle. Spring breeze and spring rain hurt people's feelings, so open thoughts can't be decorated as spring, full of worries can't be washed into scenery, thin shadows linger alone in the rain path, traces of the evening sun are hard to find, and old dreams are traceless. Only leaning on the fence near the spring water, the shadow is in pairs, and the shadow is sad.
it's raining, the wind is sad, the light rain is like silk, and the light wind is like fog, which interweaves into sorrow and condenses into sorrow. Who caused the spring sorrow? Pick a handful of worries and weave them into rain. For whom does the drizzle flow? When will the drizzle stop? Pick a handful of memories and weave them into the wind. Who will the spring breeze dance for? Where does the spring breeze float? How much I want the rain to make my heart drip into the flowers of spring, and how much I want the wind to paint my memories into the colorful spring. Listening to the murmur of the spring breeze, listening to the shallow singing of the drizzle, and a faint sadness, the spring rain drips and washes the memory, and the spring breeze flutters and blows away the fragrance of the memory. Poetry, painting, has been misty rain; Lonely and lonely, shrouded in misty rain.
who holds the wind as a pen, studies ink with tears, writes a few shallow sadness, wipes a few faint sadness, and falls a little tired of loneliness, and draws a picture of ink and mist rain. There is no long rain lane, and there is no woman in Jiangnan wearing a cheongsam and an oil-paper umbrella. The misty rain in the early spring of the northland is less gentle and more desolate. Spring is chilly, the breeze has not brushed away the cold chill, and the drizzle is still drenched with the cool spring chill. Only sharp buds appear on the treetops, which should be blooming in spring, but it is warm and cold at first, lonely and cold in spring. How can we stop? Worried about the spring rain, tears wet the red makeup and dyed the spring shirt; Worry and spring breeze, how much worry, want to say it is difficult to rest.
the drizzle knocks on the window, the breeze knocks on the window, and the endless drizzle has endless worries. Listening to the rain in the pavilion, listening to the wind in the porch, misty rain is fascinating, and there is no limit to worrying about red. 4
I'm afraid that no one will like to wait all my life. Waiting is a long process, and we don't know what the final result will be. However, there are still people who are willing to live up to their youth, just to wait for one person to return.
When you are old, gray-haired, sleepy and sitting by the fire, take down this book and read it slowly, recalling the eyes, soft spirits and deep shadows of that year. Perhaps many people have heard this song, but they don't know that it is a poem, a poem written for his goddess. Ye Zhi waited for his goddess all her life, but she couldn't get her attention, and finally she couldn't marry him. We can't help asking, is it meaningful for him to wait all his life? Most people's answer is definitely that his waiting is meaningless! Is this persistence really worthless? I'm afraid I don't share your opinion. A person is willing to give up his youth just to wait for someone to look back. His belief is worthy of recognition. Its significance lies in his persistent pursuit and his courage to give up his youth for what he wants. If a person loses his pursuit and desire for things, his life will be incomplete. Similarly, if a person loses the pursuit of love, his life will be like a walking corpse. Buddha said: people are worried from love desire, and fearful from worry. If they are separated from love, why worry and fear? So his waiting is undoubtedly valuable.
The intermittent rain hits Qingshi Lane, and there are bursts of birds singing in the distant empty valley and secluded forest. There are few pedestrians on the road, in twos and threes, only a apricot blossom in the rain under the attic. The blossoming yellow flowers are proudly blooming in the rain, and the petals are knocked down by the raindrops and fall with the wind. There is a faint sadness, and a delicate hand in the attic catches the flying yellow flowers. It's another apricot blossom season, but why haven't you returned? I only heard the woman leaning against the window lightly sigh. Is she waiting for her old friend to return by leaning against the window? This reminds me of a declining Hu Bugui in The Book of Songs. The feelings of the ancients have long gone with the passage of time, but now? How will her feelings be pinned? Looking at the apricot tree planted with her, she gradually became sad, thinking about the promise he left when he left: I will dress in red for the next apricot blossom season, and I will greet you with a crest and a gown. Who would have thought that the previous agreement was long overdue, but does he still remember the promise he made? As the curtain gradually fell, she closed the window, swaying her posture, and left wearily, thinking that tomorrow will be just right, and maybe you will come back. If you don't come back, I will wait here.
Many things in life are worth waiting for, sometimes a song, sometimes a movie, sometimes a cherry blossom tree, sometimes a journey, and sometimes a lifetime of waiting for someone. Misty Rain Sentimental Prose 5
Sky Blue is waiting for misty rain, and I am waiting for you. This season's ancient town in the south of the Yangtze River has just projected this scene. Jiangnan in the spring rain lost a little worldly noise and troubles, adding a little elegance and romance like ancient poetry.
at this time, I came to the misty and rainy ancient town in the south of the Yangtze River, standing by the rippling Suzhou River, feeling lonely? . In the misty rain, I seem to see a Jiangnan woman wearing a plain printed cheongsam, holding an oil-paper umbrella with floral prints, coming from a deep and secluded rain lane.
The woman has a tall bun, a beautiful white greasy face and a faint crescent, with a hint of melancholy in her eyes. Her oval face reveals a sadness that is hard to detect. She walks through a long and quiet rain lane, a mossy eaves, rows of willows that look soft and weak, and the willow branches floating in the wind caress her face and wipe the tears or rain from her eyes. Finally, the bridge in the river is farther and farther away, and it is slowly wiped away in the landscape of Jiangnan.
On the quiet stone steps, there is always the sound of rain beating against the green slate, which is always so monotonous. It's raining with eyes, as if there are endless sadness and endless stories.
In the misty rain terrace by the river, there are several love stories about looking for a marriage. Once the vows of eternal love, the promise in the rain, all flowed into the river with the rain, without stirring a ripple. In the end, the rain is still raining, the pavilions are still bustling, and the former teenagers have left me when the rain stops.
When the rain stops and people leave, the mark of youth is still there, and it will not fade with the rain.
I'm still waiting as usual. You and I will meet in this misty and poetic rain in the south of the Yangtze River and continue to tell the story of love and affection. The misty rain sad prose 6
When the curtain of the stage gradually opens, that is, the scene where I secretly wrote my mind, and this scene will also be secretly made public.
standing by the sea, stepping on the rolling tide and listening to the noise of the sea, I often weave many strange dreams, and have a strange feeling, as if I am not myself, but a lonely boat, this little boat-she sometimes bumps on the waves, and sometimes walks through the valleys. Perhaps this is life. Calm is short-lived, but waves are common.
a small boat is floating around, surrounded by a boundless silver world. I can't see anything from the window of my heart because there is no sunshine. Is it because of my childishness? Or is it because the sea doesn't want to show your respect? Perhaps it is you, the sea, who temporarily put away your edge in front of me. Don't you know that this will make me feel more confused? I would rather accept your fierce roar and face your reckless roar, and I will never close my eyes because of fear. Sea, your honour may be the rock, the iceberg and the magma at the bottom of the sea. Although sometimes you seem so calm, calmness does not mean that there are no waves, and silence does not mean that there is no pursuit. The magma will emit hot flames at any time, and the waves will set off an uproar at any time. The reefs in the sea are unpredictable, and the reefs in life are even more daunting.
A small boat was drifting on the sea. She didn't stay because of the huge waves, but put the rudder more steadily. She set sail for a long journey and crossed the route of death. She didn't need the tenderness of the waves, let alone the pity of the giant waves. Although the iceberg cast a huge shadow in front of her, there is a yellow sky ahead. It is because of her, facing the light, that the shadow can only be carried away ...
A small boat is drifting on the sea, and she has just set sail from here with golden dreams. Misty and rainy sad prose 7
misty and rainy south of the Yangtze River, hazy as poetry, the wind is light and rainy, and clouds are steaming and foggy.
misty rain in the south of the Yangtze River, old dreams are woven and intertwined.
The rain in the south of the Yangtze River, the affectionate rain and the drizzle are invisible to wet clothes, so as to moisten everything quietly.
the rain in the south of the Yangtze river, the rain of missing, the foot of the rain is like hemp, and it drips until dawn.
The rain dripped down the eaves covered with green thatch, dripping through thousands of years, telling the vicissitudes of thousands of years; The green slate under the eaves is full of wounds and is engraved with immortal marks. The banana outside the window, the sound of being beaten by the rain is always so monotonous, full of rustling, as if there is endless sadness, which makes people feel inexplicably depressed.
Old roads and small bridges, how many footprints have been washed away by rain. The face under the floral umbrella is still so charming and charming, and how many tear-jerking stories of looking for a marriage are supported by the floral umbrella. The spring rain broke the bridge, but the dream in my heart has never been shattered, the road under my feet is still extending, and the rain in the south of the Yangtze River is still falling again and again.
I like the feeling of rain. The sky and the earth are gray and so quiet, only the rustling of rain, as if I could hear the cheerful murmur of flowers and the sound of crops. At this time, my heart is also quiet, thinking about the girl next door, thinking about the boy in the same seat, and thinking about my beloved. Rain is falling in the air, and thoughts are also integrated into the rain, floating in distant mountains and wilderness, floating in front of the treetops and branches, forming a trickle and merging into a long river of thoughts; So there are thousands of ripples in the river, the water is full of plain flowers, filled with light fog, floating fragrance, so beautiful that people are fascinated and drunk!
I like the rain in the south of the Yangtze River. It is overwhelming and dense, such as silk, yarn, light wind and oblique rain.
I like the rain in the south of the Yangtze River. It is hazy, wispy and romantic, just like a girl's love.
I like the rain in the south of the Yangtze River. It moistens everything, dribs and drabs, endlessly, just like a girl's love.
standing by the window, I can't get it back.