A lyrical essay describing a rainy night: A rainy night alone stirs up a window of sorrow. Author: misty rain people in Jiangnan
The night deepened, the shower began to rest, and I woke up from my dream. Sleeping gently pushes the small window, slightly cold, but I don't see the dreamer stepping on the moon. I'm a little disappointed, leaning against the railing, feeling disappointed alone. The deeper the night, the deeper the nameless sadness, blowing the dusty flute, feeling sad alone, and the flute floated in the air for a long time. Let the wet wind blow and worry a lot.
Remember, who provoked the fragrance of the garden, the butterfly dance and the bee dance like the spring scenery of that season? Whose smile is this? Whose life is unforgettable. Is it fate? That's why it's so wonderful! Otherwise, why is it doomed not to forget just by looking at it?
Think of, with sad lilacs in the acacia rain, holding an affectionate oil-paper umbrella faintly, waiting for the late young lang, who only wants to be the bride of the water town. Waiting for a lifetime, even if the pace of time never stops, pale hair and emaciated old face can't change the ardent expectation and loyal waiting in my heart. Is it fate? That's why it is such a trick! Otherwise, why is there only one promise destined to wait?
Think about it, next to Sanshengshi, make a wish, who won't marry you? Who is allowed to get married? Who promised that the ocean would dry up, the rocks would collapse and things would change together forever? Who promised the end of time, let the wind, frost, rain and snow hand in hand with white hair? Is it fate? That's why it's so sad! Why else would it be the end of the world just by turning around?
Some people say that fate should be cherished and random. Take what belongs to you. Put down what doesn't belong to you. Some people say that fate is providence and fate is man-made. What is missed is the scenery. The rest is life.
Fate comes like this, and fate goes like this. In fact, no matter how many promises, it is better to wait silently. Only by being indifferent and calm can we live comfortably in the world of mortals.
Excuse me, everyone is mortal, who can do this? Alas! It's still early in the long night. I'm looking forward to the morning, combing my mind by the morning light and returning my inner peace.
Lyric Prose on the Description of a Rainy Night Part II: The picture of a rainy night seems to have disappeared for a long time, and I will occasionally think of it, but you are still vague in your memory, still nodding and smiling, calling with your own voice, but when you wake up, everything becomes out of reach.
Freeze in time, your photo instantly becomes eternal, unchanging smile, unchanging standing posture and unchanging expression, but it is difficult to express your love in your heart. A pair of staring eyes flitted across the barrier of mountains and stared at me affectionately, but it's a pity that you can't name the baby anymore.
I don't know all this, Dashan knows. I climbed the mountain and tried to catch the dew, but before I arrived, the dew disappeared in Chuyang. I didn't catch up after all, leaving me only a new grave piled up on a rainy night. Black butterflies are flying in the air, making the rain fall, floating around, but refusing to fall.
You are reluctant to leave. You look at your son's photo and call his name. You are so reluctant to part, and you can't let go when you leave. You said that when the flowers on the mountain were in full bloom, you would pick the most beautiful one for me. When I came back, the flowers on the mountain were blooming, but you broke your word.
The mountain is still the same mountain, and the old house has experienced vicissitudes of life. The muddy mountain road is still so tortuous, except for the smoke, the scenery that you accompany me to enjoy, and the story that you and I interpret in the mountains.
The wind in the mountains was very strong, which stung my eyes and made me drop a tear with my dream.
For a dream, I left my old house in the mountains and you who lived in it, regardless of Qian Shan. Wandering outside, I have had failures and heartbreaks, and my thoughts can only be kept in my heart. I conquered the outside world, but I can never come back to this world with you. If I had known this, how could this dream take my footsteps, and how could this ideal release this missing heart?
Once, I came back for a dream; I didn't see you. I went back because of my dream.
Now, I have a lot of time, alone with you, snuggling up to you and listening to your happy laughter. Do you still remember that the mountains were full of flowers that year? You took me to the mountain with a basket, you picked flowers from the mountain, stayed on my head, watched me eat strawberries, and you smiled. Laugh like a mountain. I still remember that laughter, as if it were around me and never far away. You said you would let me go out of the mountain, because there used to be unfinished dreams outside the mountain. I listen to you. I left the mountain with my dream to find your dream. You stood outside the door for a long time, looking at my distant back, holding back the tears that were about to fall, smiling and waving to me. The moment you turned around, I clearly saw a tear hit the dust on the ground, but I looked at the sky.
You think I forgot, but I didn't forget. The outside world is really wonderful. I understand your dream. I am fighting for you. In order to dream, I will miss deeply. Many, many years later, I turned my ideal into reality, but you turned from reality into a dream.
Now, I'm back and you're lying peacefully. I hope the peace tonight won't disturb your dream. You seldom rest and spend time with me. Now I'm by your side, listening to your unfinished words and telling your story with no ending.
The mountain is silent and the old house is asleep. Everything seems so quiet. Only a few dark clouds are hovering in the sky, and a few black butterflies are flying in the air but refuse to fall.
That night, it rained a little more, but the heart was wet and the tears disappeared in this gloomy rainy night.
The third part of lyric prose about rainy night: On rainy night, the iron pen turns into sadness, tears fall with words, a cup of coffee, a book, a thousand-year dream, intoxicated by the charm of Tang poetry, blending the joys and sorrows of this life, laughing for a while, being stupid for a while, hazy in heart and hazy in rain; A melody is rustling, human joys and sorrows, with a faint vicissitudes of life and a faint fragrance full of sleeves, which makes the secular feelings disappear without a trace, dances the prosperity of life between the fingers, plays a romantic and sad song, and carries a breeze through the dust of the Millennium. Purple Butterfly
Drunk listening to pipa, laughing at poetry, sad and cold for half a life, a dream in the world of mortals, a lot of fun in the stormy years, two endless illusory worlds, once met, unforgettable, strangers, so what. I have always believed that there are encounters in this world, not on the road, but in my heart; There is a feeling, not getting along with each other day and night, but silently accompanying, a yearning, no matter how far away, it can change; A kind of knowing each other, without deliberate, can be drunk for thousands of years. Su Qin's voice is like a river. The left bank is a memory I can't forget, the right bank is a bright time I deserve, and in the middle is my faint sadness every year!
Every story in my life, whether it's laughter or crying, is changing my soul bit by bit, no matter what the outcome is. I hope it will make me better after all. I also believe that words are an emotional release. When you walk into a person's spiritual garden with words, you can't help being infected by a soft emotion. On weekdays, I thought I could be flooded with ideas and let me wander back and forth in the text. But at this moment, in the drizzle lingering night, acacia disaster, there are many tender feelings can not be expressed. Even if I spent all the words, they looked so pale in the end. This word can't be understood anyway. There is always a gap between words and feelings.
Iraqi tears, heartbroken, crimson lips, rain wiping willow slightly, tears wet eyebrows, carmine, green rhyme into a butterfly, porcelain crisp, blue and white, beautiful all over the world, a song of acacia, 3,000 moss, like rain, like smoke, slender, lingering into a curtain, wetting the feelings of missing. A piano playing pavilion, drizzling all over the sky, acacia everywhere, cherry branches shaking with fragrance, willow tips hanging strings, clear waves to clear water and rainbow, empty mountains and Sanskrit, this situation is full of meditation, emotion and enlightenment, but I want to stop writing after a thousand words.
Time flies between the eyebrows and eyes, and my thoughts echo in the stormy midnight at a hundred turns. I listened attentively, meditated and realized, and looked back in an instant, and the world was far away. Dreams fall into the world of mortals, dancing lightly and splashing ink luxuriously, eclipsing the barren beauty of the years. Who lost his life and cried, who was playing the piano and listening to the sadness of flowers, in exchange for the sadness of that season. A sad eyebrow lock, a sigh, a string of clear tears falling between strings, who wants to pay Yao Qin, who will listen to the string break? In tears, there may be a touch of acacia that seems to be there; Perhaps the past that has turned into light smoke in the world of mortals has become a misty acacia, and how many tears are there in it?
Rain fills the air, water and sky are the same color, clouds are constantly flowing in the wind, tears are in the fog, silk rain is flying, and a hill has already been built, drizzling, the evening breeze is cold and moist, and everything is silent. How many ups and downs have solidified, your heart is gentle, your heart is sad, your heart is gentle, your heart is depressed, and you will miss that heart at the moment when the wonderful notes touch the heartstrings. The world of mortals is duckweed drifting in a stream, entangled with people who love dust. The Iraqis refused to retreat to Tsing Yi for a long time, only waiting for the late king, wishing mountains and water; Love, just for your red smile, just for your deep look back, and the yearning from brow to brow, no matter whether the years will grow old or not, the world of mortals will have you, and my soul will always be tied in your dreams and accompany you for thousands of years.
Some people say that every butterfly is the soul of a flower in the past. Come back and find yourself, believe in yourself, and you can break the cocoon into a butterfly and watch a misty rain from beginning to end. Look at a butterfly, from silkworm chrysalis to cocoon breaking; Look at the flowers of a tree, from blooming to dying, butterflies are intoxicated in the flowers, but the flowers are flying with the wind; Flowers fly, butterflies cry, flowers cry, butterflies fly, butterflies fall, who will thank the flowers and who will be sad? Butterfly dance is accompanied by flowers, and flowers are sad for butterflies. Time waits for no one, just like this rainy season. I looked back and saw that the petals of the purple butterfly were full. Some opportunities in life come too early or too late. I always want to reach for something, but I pick it up and throw it away.
The reason why I am obsessed with the past is because I know that there will never be those happy or sad times I have experienced in my life. What I can't get rid of is the memory, the years, the loss, the emotion and the love for you. Once beautiful things, instantly turned into lingering thoughts. Some things freeze in a warm and beautiful way, stay in my memory, read the outline of time and describe the arc of sad years. Who cut time into fireworks and saw all this in an instant? Who turned the waves of missing and wandered around the world? In my memory, there are always moments that are nothing special when I experience them, but in retrospect, they are better than a thousand words. Looking back, I can't keep the years, stare at it and go back in time.
Love flies in the wind, loves to play in the rain, once wishful thinking, once infatuated, woke up with the wind, now: love is silent, love is silent, but tears wet my eyes and flow all over my heart. In this life, you are my blue confidante who has forgotten for thousands of years. You are my world of mortals, my sad thoughts, my origin and fate, and I pass by. Whoever abandoned my city, I lost my heart. Since then, that face has been forgotten by the whole world, and there is no face anymore. How many spoony tears have I shed, and how many ordinary loves have I tasted after drinking a glass of turbid wine! If I am your lotus, let me keep a long-term affection for you in my life.