Poetry describing the plum rain season
(first poem)
The heavy door is hidden deep in the small courtyard, and the water droplets on the screen window also speak loudly.
The beauty is so heavy that the throat is sore, and the books are thrown away, leaving traces of tears.
Who can complain about my sorrow? The two places are full of lovesickness.
The heart is like plum blossoms and rain in the season, and the plain paper and light ink are sent at dusk.
(Second song)
The plum rains continuously bring down the heat flow, and fields are spread on both sides of the Shan River.
The wind shakes the rice paddies in thousands of green waves, and the sun reflects the thousands of red lotus flowers.
The laboring swallows build their nests and play together, and the worker bees brew honey and sing to each other.
It is the farming season in June in the countryside, and the fields are endless and the iron oxen are competing.
(The third song)
Leaning on the railing, I can see the clouds and smoke, and the rain is soaking through the window curtains.
The ripples under the willows are blooming, and the flowers in the pond are blooming.
The lush greenery is not accompanied by the singing of cicadas, but the beauty is still moved with the wings of swallows.
When I woke up from the dream, the plum blossoms were already ripe, and I thought about how fresh they were when I tasted them.
(Fourth song)
It rains in the south of the Yangtze River during the Huangmei season, and the water swells in the lake due to the fat and thin reeds.
The old man looks out of the window, and the young child paddles his oar to chase the swans in the current.
The sound of the waves is still charming, and the poetry rhymes with new joy.
Three cups of turbid wine lead to the road, and the drunken figure in front of the lamp looks foolish.