The long rain deepened autumn.
In the dark night, street lamps are like beans, reflecting deep and shallow thoughts in the puddle. When I woke up, Xiaoyu was still whispering in my ear. When I wake up, there are still lingering curtains outside the window. Endless autumn love stories.
In this rainy season, it is easy to get wet. I used a flute to pass the lonely night. The rainy night was dried by thoughts, but I fell into a sad and desperate situation.
No one to accompany me, wine at dusk. Through the drizzle in the evening, I rolled up my thoughts alone and took a sip of tea. The faint fragrance of chrysanthemum permeates become memories between my lips and teeth, until my back fades into distant scenery in the corner of my eye.
The cement road replaced the blue slate in the alley. In the city with many tall buildings, my feet will never be able to cut open that long story. Some stories are doomed to have no ending. Only a lonely heart, still wandering in the world.
Walking in the rain at dusk, I felt chilly in my sleeves, so I pulled up my silk scarf and turned up my collar. The white oiled paper umbrella is in full bloom in the rain, like a quiet white lotus. At this time, someone was riding a bicycle in the alley. JJ Lin's "Jiangnan" came from the Walkman, and the Walkman spilled all over the floor. Blue poncho, in this dusk, there is a kind of inexplicable sadness. The color of the world in front of us suddenly faded, leaving only black and white. In the song, a piece of gold leaves comes down slowly, with the loneliness of poets and travelers, a kind of nostalgia for home and a low sigh. In this quiet alley, I watched the autumn rain wash away the lead China alone, and the drizzle drifted away in endless dreams.
On such a rainy night, I suddenly miss the alleys in my hometown. Those long alleys paved with small pebbles meander between black tiles and white walls. Those memories have already been dried by me and sandwiched in the pages. Only dreams are still there.
During the day, I saw the small white chrysanthemum in the yard, with glittering and translucent water drops hanging on the tip, as hazy as talking. Loneliness penetrates the dim wall, and the pale face under the incandescent lamp is suitable for memories. Who cried and fell like a dead butterfly in the dream? On such a night, I can't hear the sporadic sigh behind you anymore.
Long, long ago, those chapters about love have been permanently deleted by years. When I dream back at midnight, some fantasies and ideas precipitate in the corner. At midnight, I mourn the passing time with drizzle. In the foggy south of the Yangtze River, are Iraqis still waiting on the other side of the dream?
Under the dim light of night, the faint blue and misty gray in the misty rain are held in the palm of your hand. Choose a sunny afternoon, open it and remember it slowly.
I tell you, we had those days when we were far away from our friends and lived alone in the flower season. We have the loss of young pride being hit on the wall of happiness in reality, we have unforgettable expectations, and we even have sad moments because of an unexpected rainy day.
Sometimes, in the face of many silent eyes and many contusions without appointments, we think that we are hopeless or that the whole world has changed.
Maybe it's just because we have never been young, maybe the world we live in hasn't changed at all, no, it's just ourselves and the time when we don't look back. The most important thing is whether we have changed our beliefs-our initial beliefs about life.
Yes, no matter how many of us forget this, faith is always the light green that awakens spring at the end of winter. As long as there is a calling smoke wind, it will cover our eyes gladly.
Yes, there have been sad days, but even if it is not quiet, even if what we have is simple, even if it appears repeatedly, as long as you pay attention, as long as you don't give up your original vows and yearning for life, it can give us infinite love and everything I tell you in every subtle day.
2,
Spring, bright spring, mild spring, came back and came to my side. You are always dancing gently in the mountains, so close and kind. People can't forget that intoxicating dream. I wandered among the trees in search of charming spring scenery.
I set foot on the deep mountain canyon. I followed the mountain and went upstream. A ribbon with a poetic and warm wind gently brushed my cheek, which always makes people miss it. It's not hard to imagine that green is around you. Green is refreshing and never tires of seeing it. It represents the color of life and nature. After the long winter, the long-lost green has regained its brightness.
I, sometimes traveling through the forest, sometimes climbing and standing on the rocks. The only belief in my heart is-keep going up! Stepping on the soil is spring, full of the meaning of spring, becoming moist and energetic. There is a small clear spring flowing in the valley, which keeps flowing downwards, flows into my heart and moistens my heart. If I drink old wine that has been cellared for years, it will make me a little drunk. I look forward to the future as if heaven and earth were on my chest. I seem to be the mountain god in charge of the lush forest. I'm always a little proud when I think about it. The sly old tree didn't trip me. Although my knee is bruised; My hand was cut; The higher the mountain, the more difficult it is to breathe; Sweat drips like water. But they all died for the struggle. Fight against self and nature. Always set your eyes on the top of the mountain, the goal is there, the highest end of the mountain! They said, "The benevolent enjoys Leshan, while the wise enjoys water." Today, I walked around the room and absorbed the aura of heaven and earth and the essence of the sun and the moon!
Springs are tinkling into life, and mountains and rivers are vast in my heart. This is the fun of spring outing!
3,
Fantasy about snow
Siberian wind
The season that brings light rain and flowers.
In this northern winter
I'm in the snow
Wandering alone
A gloomy day
Browse the sad space
Going to the season again
The last reincarnation
Today, the town finally waited for another long-awaited snowfall.
Butterfly-like snowflakes dance gently, bringing the unique scenery of this season. She came lightly, she came slowly, and she came without makeup and gauze. This winter's elves have come to dress up our world. Can winter be called winter without snow?
Wherever her skirt goes, the snowy plain is as quiet as a virgin, the snowy peaks are cold, the Yushu Qionghua is in full bloom, and the air is particularly gentle. Under her gentle comfort, all the restlessness began to subside, and the earth was quiet and peaceful, just like a baby sleeping in its mother's arms. In this world of silver makeup, this dazzling whiteness eclipses the sky. In this quiet white, what impetuous worries are we unable to let go?
When our restless hearts calm down, we can feel how colorful the falling snowflakes are. What kind of flowers in the world can be as atmospheric as snowflakes? What kind of flowers can be as chic as snowflakes? "Like the strong wind in spring, it blows at night and blows open the petals of ten thousand pear trees"-this is the brilliance of snow; "Northland scenery, thousands of miles frozen, Wan Li snow floating, looking at the inside and outside of the Great Wall, and I am boundless, the river rises and falls, I lost the surging"-this is the spectacular snow; "The window contains autumn snow in Xiling, at the gate of Wu Dong Wan Li boating"-this is the beauty of snow; "Wind and rain send spring home, flying snow welcomes the spring. It is already a cliff full of ice, and there are beautiful flowers "-this is the romance of snow; "There are no birds in a hundred mountains, and there are no footprints in a thousand paths"-this is the loneliness and seclusion of Xue. In fact, what I like best is "there is a ray of green in the old bottle and a trace of red in the quiet stove;" It feels like snow outside at dusk. How about a glass of wine inside? " This artistic conception. Two old friends, sitting around a small red stove in a thatched cottage with low clouds at dusk, asked questions in a warm and concerned voice. It's just that in today's society, although there are many wines, there are few stoves and bosom friends are hard to find. This artistic conception is even more difficult to appreciate.
I came to the suburbs alone, and in the vast snowfield, I reduced myself to a small black spot between the boundless world and stopped quietly here. If we regard this snowfield as a world, then we are countless snowflakes scattered by God. Like falling snowflakes, we are sent to this world by the wind of fate. Looking back, there was no trace of patrol. We lie down where we fell, waiting for the wind of fate to send us to another place again, or waiting for another snowflake to fly, and then quietly melt into invisibility. Just as there are no two identical snowflakes, there are no two identical people in the world. So, where is the other snowflake that we know and have a heart?
Looking around blankly, what is colder than the weather in early winter is loneliness, which comes from all directions and penetrates my heart. In this cold silence, a warm voice gradually rises from the bottom of my heart:
Is it snowing there?
Are you afraid of cold?
Is there a fire to warm your hands?
Can a smile fill your home?
Is it snowing there?
Are you afraid of loneliness?
Do you want to hear a sweet word from me?
Shall I leave you a snowflake?
Walking in the snow to see plum blossoms [1]?
It became a fairy tale in my dream.
Petals flying
My long hair is flowing.
Pick a flower and leave my eternal concern.
Accompany me to travel around the world in the coldest day.
I think this is the most beautiful song in the world, which contains many strong emotions, including missing, caring, worrying and hoping for my lover. Accompanied by singing, there is also a feeling of giving up. In this life, can I find my other snowflake? Can I still hold hands and sing this song to her? Who can accompany me to travel around the world on the coldest day?
Seeing snowflakes flying like butterflies, I suddenly felt infinite sadness in my heart. Just like a broken cocoon butterfly, how painful is it for a drop of water to condense and crack into a beautiful snowflake? How many hardships does life have to go through to be more sophisticated and brilliant?
4,
Listening to the rain, I was really intoxicated.
If you stubbornly believe that listening to rain in summer is too noisy, listening to rain in autumn is too bleak, and listening to rain in winter is too rare, then listening to rain in spring must open the window and turn off the lights. Listening to the spring rain is impeccable.
"Sneak into the night with the wind and moisten things silently." When nameless troubles strike, when everything in the world falls into silence, when several dogs bark to break the silence, listen and listen carefully. ...
Rain falls from the sky, falls on the branches, falls on the roof, along the eaves, falls on the ground, and finally falls into the soil … Listen, listen carefully …
The rain is lingering and gently blown by the evening breeze, forming a harmonious movement, which is very rhythmic, sometimes slow and sometimes sharp ... Listen, listen carefully. ...
Do you feel that you have merged with nature?
This rain, singing softly, hollows out your thoughts, expresses your melancholy, interprets your doubts, fills your imagination, and makes you feel as if you have become a drop of rain, a tree, a grass, a bunch of flowers, a handful of soil ... This rain makes time seem to freeze, and only the clock on the wall tells you that life is still going on.
Listen, listen, I seem to be in a winding alley, extending far away. I also met a girl with lilac-like sadness, a girl with dreams and clouds.
This rain purified my soul and made me find a pure land and a comfort in my own world. Will my growing regrets become beautiful in this gentle song? The rain is so pure, as pure as my tears, in which I can't see myself clearly.
Too much missing, too much nonsense, too much feeling, too much melancholy, too much missing can only be released one by one in this drizzly day.
Tear up the last calendar, so I go to be a memory, I look for it carefully, I wait forever, expecting a brand-new myself, leaving a rainy night and a new footprint. ...
Listening to the rain, listening to the spring rain, can not be explained in words, can only understand. ...