If there are more dead beauties in the West Lake, C+ is so appropriate.
-Su Shi's Rain after Drinking on the Lake.
As beautiful as flowers and jade, as water flies. In Huangmei season, the drizzle is hazy and falls in Qingshi alley. I walked with an oil-paper umbrella several times to find my dream Bai Lianhua. Whenever this season, listening to Tiger Hu's "Xiaoxiang Rain", the beautiful woman named Xiaoxiang looms before my eyes.
"The rainy season, my heart is broken. That woman named Xiaoxiang is so beautiful. " Listening to the beautiful melody in my ear, the rain flower splashed on the windowsill seems to be a beating note on the strings, listening attentively to the meaning of the spring rain. At this time, with a yellowed poem in his hand, Su Shi's poem "Comparing the West Lake with the West Lake, light makeup and heavy makeup are always appropriate" came into view.
Jiangnan, a dreamland since ancient times, is gentle and quiet. On the branches of the moon, talented people write poems to the moon, beautiful people dance in the willow garden, and jade flutes keep ringing. When the misty rain falls, girls in veils walk in the rain with oil-paper umbrellas, or look back and smile, which are all beautiful in spring.
Occasionally, after the rain, I will sit alone on the balcony, look into the distance and fantasize about the south of the Yangtze River. Maybe the white snake met Xu Xian and there was an oiled paper umbrella on the broken bridge. Or Su Xiaoxiao met Ruan Yu, butterflies flying and phoenixes flying, and wrote the legend of talented people and beautiful women; Or Liu Qinhuai's catkins dancing by the river, chanting the beautiful sentence "I see how charming Qingshan is, and expect Qingshan to see me" alone.
Apricot blossom and spring rain, poetic Jiangnan, always breeds the freshness of Tang poetry and the grace of Song poetry. Jiangnan woman, full of dani, as cheap as cutting onion roots, as waist as Yang Liuzhi, can't be ashamed of the breeze. People in the south of the Yangtze River are as charming as peach blossoms and as charming as hibiscus. Melancholy is like spring rain, and cold is like misty rain.
How I yearn for this kind of life, Qingshiqiao, Wupengchuan, and enter the poetic picture. In the whisper of the spring rain, I recall the pastoral area where "spring pigeons are singing on the house and apricot blossoms are blooming at the edge of the village". There is a dream on my pillow and I am half-worried. When the clouds are light and the wind is light, I am in the deep courtyard, the spring is boiling, and people are as light as flowers. Look up at the flowers and look down at the poetry and ink painting.
If you are in Jiangnan, you must walk alone in the spring rain. When the breeze blows, I feel the comfort of the rain. Unconsciously, I was a little more gentle and romantic, and I had a close contact with the spring rain, flowing through my brow and cheeks. The gentle spring rain rippled in my heart, and in the blue misty rain, I was waiting for the return of my old friend. I cut candles at the west window, holding cups and talking with Sang Ma.
The spring rain in the south of the Yangtze River disturbs my dreams, and I just wait for the flowers to come as scheduled. Get a little misty rain to relieve my worries and give me a greeting from Fahua. Spring rain is gentle, simple, profound and thorough. The more interested you are in listening to the rain, the more your soul can wash away the dust and the troubles in the world in the spring rain. Turn into a trickle, flow into Qinhuai River, wash away rouge gouache, and make the world clear.
I like the spring rain, refreshing as pear blossoms and sad as cinnamon in late autumn. Like a thread, the sky and the earth are intertwined, affecting my heartstrings and swaying gently with the wind. In this way, quietly, wash away the lead in the world, weave sadness and savor the beauty and beauty of nature.
There is always too much yearning for Jiangnan. Sanqiu Guizi, a ten-mile lotus flower, is full of praise in Fengchi. The spring rain in Jiangnan is strong, and acacia is full of paper. Parting is reunion. Because she is a woman, she can not love the whole city or this country, but she needs to know that she is warm and cold, like a bright moon, as prosperous as a drizzle in the south of the Yangtze River, and she has to have a heart.
I want to be a smiling woman in my life. Then sit and watch Yun Qi and go to water poverty. Deep in the south of the Yangtze River, in the misty rain and red dust, words are used alone to keep warm, and the fragrance floats between words, and the shadows in the poetry forest are oblique. A cup of tea, a dream, a book and a pen, write down the love of the whole city.