Bamboo Listening to Rain Prose 1 Bamboo Listening to Rain
The wind is slightly cold, the rain is slightly dripping, and the touch of the season is slightly cool. Oh, autumn is coming. There is a feeling in my heart that this poem does not belong to the noisy world, but belongs to the quiet bamboo.
Riding with a little elegance and comfort, I strolled to my pocket-sized "bamboo villa", which was silent at the foot of the mountain, and only the gurgling stream knew its existence. It's a small bamboo building, with an exquisite yard surrounded by bamboo fences, and a bamboo rocking chair in the yard, waiting quietly for its owner. From a distance, my little bamboo house seems to lack the charm and agility of Li Lewei's A Castle in the Air, but it is a little more quiet and elegant than Liu Yuxi's The Humble Room.
I like the feeling of sitting in front of the bamboo building on rainy days, holding a pot of fragrant tea, curling up the smoke from the kitchen, and the fragrance is faint. It must be bamboo leaf green. In the silence, you seem to feel the sound of rain beating on the roof repaired by bamboo sticks. It sometimes decomposes and sometimes merges, and then merges into a bead that slips off the roof and hits the bamboo ware under the eaves, crisp as a bang. Looking up, a wisp of mountain wind passed by, bamboo fences flashed slightly, green waves rippled slightly, and rain fell gently between bamboo leaves. I heard Bai Juyi's voice "Guan Ying's words slip to the bottom", and the realm of "silence is better than sound" is probably here. The drizzle sometimes gathers into a big raindrop and beats on a leaf. This sound makes you "hear the voice of Yue Xian for a while", but the leaves seem to have a feeling that they can't bear the weight of life, so they bow their heads and give the raindrops to the earth.
The feeling of listening to the rain around the bamboo fence is also wonderful, and the bamboo hat is not needed, so let yourself blend into the bamboo forest to listen to the drizzle. Conveniently caressing bamboo, the flexibility of bamboo slips through fingers, pulling a piece of bamboo leaves to smell, the faint fragrance of bamboo seeps into the heart, which is refreshing. Look closely at the wind and bamboo dance, and the rain is the string; Look up and weave in the drizzle, and you will know the origin of "misty rain". I don't know when, a bamboo leaf falls between my sleeves, with several crystal beads on it. I gently picked up the bamboo leaves, but the beads disappeared without a trace in an instant.
Listening to the rain in the bamboo forest requires a kind of leisure of "whistling and walking slowly". Walking beside the quiet bamboo forest, if the rain sounds like a song and beats the keys in your heart, there will be calmness and calmness of "no rain or shine". In the complicated world, find a station attendant to give yourself a rest, and many unbearable tiredness and troubles in life will disappear in an instant with the wind and rain. As long as there is a piece of green in my heart and a curtain of rain, even if there is a slight cold in my life, I will "meet the mountain obliquely"
Bamboo Forest Listening to Rain Prose 2 Bamboo forest in summer, she is dripping with green, overflowing with green and charming. If it is raining lightly at this time, what kind of "walking clouds and touching, flowing water is clear" will it be if you listen to the rain in the bamboo forest happily and listen to the rain in the bamboo forest?
In windy summer, the wind gently blows through the bamboo forest and also blows my cheeks. Looking at this lush bamboo forest, I am happy and carefree. I broke into this bamboo forest and "fell" into this vibrant and vibrant sea of life. Then, this refreshing light rain, smiling and staring for a long time, will it be in the yearning for the sound of bamboo forest, will it be happy to keep the appointment?
"Idle flowers fall to the ground, listening to silence. Who does the drizzle wet clothes ask? " A piece of paper has passed through the years, lost ink, amused the years and comforted the time. Suddenly, the light rain came as promised. In an instant, the bamboo forest is silent, the river is silent ... the heart is beating, the rain is noisy, the bamboo forest is rustling, and the rain is buzzing. Dripping, refreshing, fragrant and refreshing. Time is shallow, drizzle is like cotton, the coolness of fingertips overlooks and stares, and the throb of my heart infiltrates my heart.
Walking on the stone road with drizzle, I always feel the coolness of the graceful drizzle kissing my hair. Mumiao milk smoke, light flow. Perhaps, at this moment, the quiet bamboo forest, accompanied by light rain, lightens the heat and enriches the elegance. So, where did this guest come from and where is he going?
Along this winding path, Tao Ran strolled in this quiet bamboo forest drizzle. "The rain washed Juanjuan clean, and the wind blew well." The rain was clever and unreal, and the bamboo was quiet and enchanting. You see, at the moment, the rain is beating gently on the bamboo leaves, and the crystal water drops coincide with the silent rolling and tenderness on the bamboo leaves. The drizzle falls in the bamboo forest and on the branches of bamboo leaves. They appear alternately from east to west and from left to right, which is very lively. Suddenly, Lan Yu fell slightly and disappeared quietly, nourishing it. Listening to the poetic rain, smelling cool. The sound of bamboo leaves, the sound of raindrops and the continuous drizzle soaked the cool bamboo leaves, but the bamboo leaves carefully cared for the fragrance of nectar. Depression value is strong, cigarette rain. They are lingering in the rain leaves, and the rain beads are accompanied by the flowing Qingxi, and they are stepping on the fine steps and suddenly looking back. Suddenly, this impetuous heart is in this warm and quiet bamboo forest. In this bamboo forest, listening to the drizzle, I feel wet, my heart becomes clear and clear, my mind is quiet, free and easy, and I have no attachments.
Originally, I am waiting for you, and you are waiting for me. The heart is over there, and love is here. Standing in the forest, the forest is in the rain. The bamboo forest listens to the rain, washes the heart, and the rain hits the bamboo leaves, asking the soul. I dreamed of it countless times, which made my heart beat slowly in this soft and ethereal artistic conception. My thoughts flew slowly with this lingering sound, and then I crossed the heavy fog woven by a curtain of misty rain. Finally, I was glad that I firmly grasped the cool rain bead in my heart. But in a hurry, suddenly there was a breeze in Xu Lai, and the bamboo branches swayed and danced obliquely to clear the shadows, which suddenly shook off the leisure worries here and shattered the pieces of green smoke clouds and this fascinating dream. It turned out that I was listening to the rain in the bamboo forest, and the bamboo forest secretly thanked me in the rain. The bamboo forest listens to the rain, rhymes in the rain and sings in the heart.
"Don't listen to the leaves in the forest, why don't you sing slowly. Bamboo poles and sandals are more dexterous than riding horses. What's to be afraid of? At this moment, I really want to close my eyes quietly, just like listening to grandma humming a lullaby, so that my heart can be quiet and comfortable in the bamboo forest and slowly settle in the rain. Or, from another angle, sing a song and worry less. But for a moment, I was afraid to disturb the cicada hiding from the rain and the sparrow living there. However, in the end, things are like chess, carved indifferently, and the clouds are rolling. Then, why not smell the intoxicating fresh bamboo in the drizzle of the bamboo forest, with green smoke, elegant and distant, like a fairy. Listening to the rain in the bamboo forest may be an artistic conception, a yearning, a long-lost tranquility and clarity in the Ming and Qing Dynasties.
Then, as long as we always stick to a piece of green, a curtain of rain and indifference in our hearts, even if there is a temporary "coolness" in life, it will always be "the hills are oblique but welcome guests" and will never return. Mermaids shed pearl-like tears in the green ocean of the moon. Things have changed in recent years. The dust in the world doesn't know how many thoughts are destined to stay. The bamboo forest listens to the rain, the rain cools the bamboo, and the bamboo moistens our hearts. Summer rain whispers, life is like a dream, and life is a little melancholy. Perhaps, melancholy has been boundless. Some people walk away, and some things fade when they look at them. There is too much nothingness in life, too much anxiety in life, and the fight between trapped animals. Why bother? It is best to have a quiet time, a beautiful heart and Jing Qing, and a long bamboo forest.
Listen to the rain in the bamboo forest, rhyme in the rain and love in the song. The bamboo forest is whistling, the flowers are dying, the wind is talking, and the rain is bothering. I was drunk, but you fell asleep. ...
In summer, the bamboo forest is filled with faint freshness in the heat. She is dripping with green, overflowing with green, and lightly releasing impetuousness. The gentle wind shook off the heat of the whole body. What about the drizzle? But from time to time it falls on the cool face and ears. Maybe at this time, there will be that noise. who is it? Playing the music of nature and inviting the sky in the rain, I have been tirelessly listening to the tall and straight power of bamboo in this drizzle, and I have never changed in my life?
"The rain wets people's hearts and the wind wakes them up." Looking at this lush bamboo forest, what kind of attitude should we take to penetrate this bustling floating world and find a quiet place for our hearts to inhabit? What kind of music should I write to penetrate my heart and always recall my inner purity?
Oh, it turns out that the bamboo forest listens to the rain, rhymes in the rain, and the mood is in the song. Bamboo should always be in our hearts.
Bamboo grove listening to the rain prose 3 There are few bamboo books in the north, occasionally, and they are not fragments.
In the past two years, many bamboos have been planted in the gardens on both sides of the Weihe River in the town, one after another. The summer is lush and beautiful, which makes people easily think of the endless faint bamboo forest beside the stream at the foot of the southern Qingshan Mountain.
In fact, when I was a child, my home was in the southernmost part of the village, and seven or eight steps away from home was a small bamboo forest in the river bend. In summer, bamboo forest has become a good place for friends to enjoy the cool. When it rains, friends kneel on the stone platform under the grass pavilion on the edge of the forest, and all kinds of small people and animals squeezed by the soil resound through the bamboo forest with the laughter of the rain.
However, at that time, I was too young to recognize thousands of drops of rain. Dream porcelain is as delicate and quiet as the one that hits the swaying bamboo leaves. I only remember playing with lovely mud in my hand, looking forward to the dream flower fairy coming through the top of the forest and smiling through the rain curtain.
However, after all, I didn't wait for the long-awaited flower fairy, but my monotonous and happy childhood and adolescence slipped away from the bamboo forest.
I vaguely remember that the rain on bamboo leaves is transparent and gentle. It resounds through the whole bamboo forest, crisp and pleasant.
I vaguely remember that in the village under the rain curtain, the smoke from the chimneys of every household curled across the bamboo forest and was quiet and serene in the haze.
Bamboo Listening to Rain Prose 4 Later, I grew up gradually, step by step away from the village, away from the bamboo forest, away from the rustling rain in the bamboo forest. Occasionally, when I pass through a dense bamboo forest, I will suddenly flash some thoughts left in my memory, and the pace of running in the crowd will be lighter.
Now I have lived in the noisy downtown for a long time, watched the depth outside the curtain screen, slept in the moonlight and began to miss the faint bamboo forest when I was a child. When I miss him deeply, I added a pot of bamboo to the desk in the cabin. Silent bamboo, standing at the end of May, always looks at it, and the eternal green overflows the hut like water.
That day, I went to the office of the art department and saw the painter's colleagues waving ink to draw bamboo, which was as fresh as the morning wind after rain and very eye-catching. Deep in the bamboo forest, a brown path winds up. At that time, I subconsciously took a deep breath, as if to breathe in all the coolness and calmness that overflowed from bamboo.
When my colleagues saw me so addicted, they got the message and said, "Don't laugh at my poor work." Naturally, under the glass of my desk, it was full, and the bamboo forest was crushed.
And I, from time to time through the glass, stand alone in this forever static bamboo forest, waiting for a rain, and can listen to the rain with me in the bamboo forest.
Surprise is that it has been raining outside the window, and the sound of rain seems to fall on the bamboo forest in front of me, like the sound of spring silkworms biting mulberry leaves, crisp and sonorous. I even imagined such an elegant and quiet picture: in a humble thatched cottage or graceful pavilion, a refined man with fine features or a pure talented woman in plain clothes sat quietly in the rain in the depths of the bamboo forest opposite Qianshan, playing the piano leisurely, with the same faint eyes, as if stepping on a dream of blue bricks and white tiles.
After listening for a long time, a ridiculous idea suddenly came to me. Maybe there should be Kong Ming. Holding a feather fan and wearing a black ribbon scarf, the man was personable and shouted, "Xiangyang City is 20 miles west, and Gorkon is surrounded by pillows. Gorkon bends the cloud roots, and the flowing water flies. The bamboo screen is green, and the flowers are wild at all times. " He has been there, hasn't he?
The rain has been falling in the corner of the bamboo forest, and there is a lingering comfort in the rustling sound. I am constantly comforting myself. If it was a rain a thousand years ago, how detached is this elegant realm? It's a pity that later Kong Ming, although he once sat in the wind and smoke of time and experienced several storms, although the sparse bamboo forest in Wollongong was dotted with drizzle, the hut could no longer wait for a calm return.
I'm so disappointed to think of it, and suddenly my eyes shine. Oh, it turned out to be the poet Su Shi, who raised his wine and sang "Better eat without meat, not live without bamboo". Listen, the heroic voice all the way, "if you don't listen to the sound of beating leaves in the Woods, why don't you sing and go?" Bamboo poles and sandals are more dexterous than riding horses. What's to be afraid of? A misty rain is a lifetime. "How clear!
So, I faded away from fatigue and impetuousness, and drowned myself in the endless bamboo forest. Listening to the sound of rain, I quietly told myself that the bamboo forest, whether it was Kong Ming or Su Shi, was shrouded in a sense of loneliness for several generations. It may have been silent for a long time, and the rain can finally fall with the same arrogance! And I, how lucky I am!
Finally, I comforted myself in my heart. Perhaps, it is a kind of happiness to travel through time and space, through history and listen to the rain in the bamboo forest.
There is a place in the bamboo forest to listen to the rain prose. I have been there once. It is the sound of rain in music, which accurately copies the memory into a walking picture: the wind walks in my thoughts, I walk in the bamboo forest, and the rain walks in the wind. ...
I really appreciate the sound of the piano that touched the beauty of the rain to the extreme. How long has Nanling Bamboo Garden been remembered? How long has that bamboo grove stone road been ignored? How long ago I looked up at the sky in the bamboo forest?
Banqiao was obsessed with the emotion of bamboo and lost in ink painting all his life. He left with his sleeves clean, but I still continued the poet's melancholy and the painter's loneliness in the world of mortals. If the tolerance and gentleness of the rain didn't awaken my withered loneliness, how could I easily touch the hidden deep pain?
That slender flute must come from this bamboo forest. Otherwise, how can the almost traceless rain moisten the whole soul, from the body surface to the heart and into the blood? It's just that I imagined the man in the white shirt. Why didn't he show up? Now that the flowers have withered, can't he understand my long loneliness?
I don't know whether Boya's piano music has ever paid tribute to those people with lofty ideals. I really want to invite him to play in the bamboo forest. I gave him a huge oil-paper umbrella, and he caressed the piano. I listened to the rain, and the wind carefully swept through the bamboo forest, and then clearly escaped from the strings. I am willing to be the wind on his piano and walk under his touch all my life. ...
People often think of those ancients when they are forgotten, because the world of mortals is too noisy, and they also think that they can rest in peace in places or times that cannot be traced back.
Taoyuan County, Hunan Province is famous for Tao Yuanming's Peach Blossom Garden. People only know that there is a rare bamboo forest in the Peach Blossom Spring, but they don't know that there is a mountain with bamboo dozens of miles away from the Peach Blossom Spring. I have only been there once.
Once is enough. Every time it rains, all the memories will be clear again.