It's early summer and it's drizzling.
This is Jiangnan when it rains. No matter whether the rain stays a little or falls for a long time, I know that the rain will definitely restore a silent parting and inject a little melancholy into this affectionate Jiangnan.
Everything has a beginning, first sight, first hearing, first staying, first love, first thinking, first foreseeing ... such as the most beautiful poem, the most mellow wine, staying in the first years.
I like this shallow early summer. Xia is a woman's surname, like a bright and clean dew, shining with her serenity. The noise of the world, the dust all over the ground, because of you, the passionate Xia Ping has added inexhaustible simplicity and elegance.
I like this rainy early summer.
In the breath of rain, there is your taste, not far from Jiangnan, in my heart.
[2]
I read your article in the rain window and couldn't help crying.
Serve, cappuccino is mellow, just what we like. In the taste of coffee, there is your taste, crawling in my taste buds.
"If I don't visit you often in the future, it's because I know that you have been there, safe and sound. You don't come to see me, you also want to know that I have been here, um ... "
This is a sentence you wrote in this essay, which only brought out my tears at that moment.
You ask me, is that why you are crying?
Let me ask you, this is what I said in my heart. How did you know?
You said, "Because I live in your heart ..."
I said, "Yes, you live in my heart and you won't lose ..."
[3]
In the early summer, the taste of summer is getting stronger and stronger.
Seems to have been looking forward to a rain, let it douse the pain of parting from spring. Looking forward to waving long sleeves, with an elegant smile, overflowing with a gentle feeling.
This rain in the south of the Yangtze River, with fragrance and soft poetry, was once so persistent at the end of March.
That January, that day, this passage, which is surprisingly the same, almost similar to your language, was given to a friend who is about to travel, as a final blessing, as a commemoration of that most beautiful flower season, that poetic shallow summer, and that ups and downs of life in the shallow summer. ...
Although it was spring at that time, it was as depressing as late autumn. Man has come a long way, but I don't know where he is.
Then, after parting, silent poems flowed in the hourglass-like time. Those poems, like a yellowed leaf, passed through autumn from summer, covered with fallen leaves, wrapped in snow and moistened by spring water, and landed repeatedly in this shallow early summer.
It was early summer again, and the sound of rain shattered the south of the Yangtze River. I don't know how sad it is to think of the man in the past.
You said, "There is nothing to worry about in autumn. I am very worried. "
I said, "The smell of yesterday made that woman feel sad. If the moon in Coody Leng is crooked, there is no way to send it and there is no way to post it. "
[4]
Jiangnan in the rain. A song "Rain Crushes Jiangnan" is a peerless sound, the tune is melodious only for you, and the style is silent only for you.
In the simple and elegant rhyme, it is an erhu, clear and graceful, playing the Jiangnan rhythm like a dream.
In the light summer, there is no majestic rain, but you can see the strings stretching the rain into a thin rain curtain.
You came in the rain, holding a pure white umbrella, pure white, with a half-opened lotus flower in the corner. Then there is a pure white feeling falling in the misty rain in the south of the Yangtze River, finely broken and spinning alone.
Perhaps, after all, the rain can't bear the sadness, but the eyes can't wear the rain curtain in the south of the Yangtze River, can't see the people drifting away, and can't track the hubbub ...
Who says drizzle is like sorrow? I wonder if the sandalwood fan full of poems can swing away the sadness like rain? That graceful shadow, I wonder if it can throw away thousands of chop suey, avoid a water step and be covered with tears?
Who said there was no dust to bury? Buried are those worries that no one can understand, with wet clothes, blowing bangs and tears.
[5]
Close your eyes, let all the memories precipitate, let your heart beat in sync with the notes, let you be with this early summer, and feel that gentle melody takes root from the bottom of my heart, with subtle invisible pain, extending to the limbs with blood and flowing back to my heart.
Rain breaks Jiangnan, whose tears is it? Those wet memories in the rain seem clear and indelible.
Who whispers the rain? Between the green willows, crying to leave. ...
Look, look, the rain in the south of the Yangtze River.
I saw it, I saw it, you were in the rain.
Gently push open the small window and see you sitting in the pavilion. The rain is in the light summer and you are in the broken rain in the south of the Yangtze River. ...