Seeking Zhang Ailing's poems; & gt

Rainwater weaves a soft web like silver-gray wet spider silk, covering the whole autumn world. The sky is also dark, like the roof covered with spider silk in an old house, and the gray clouds piled up in the sky are like white powder peeling off the roof. Under the cover of this old roof, everything looks very dull. The green mulberry vines in the garden only represent the prosperity of the past summer, but now they have become the remains of ancient Roman architecture. In the rain, I cringed and recalled the glorious past. The color of the grass has turned into a melancholy yellow ground, and I can't find any flowers. The delicate daffodils planted outside the dormitory wall hung their heads and sighed with tears. After two good days, I met such a rotten and fumigated rainy day. Only the sweet-scented osmanthus branches in the corner are decorated with several tender cores as precious as gold, which are carefully hidden under the green oval leaves. A glimmer of hope for the budding of new life. It's raining quietly, only a little thin sound. The orange-red house is like an old monk in a brightly colored cassock, hanging his head and closing his eyes. It was baptized by the rain. Which wet red brick gives off a pungent pig blood color in sharp contrast to the green laurel leaves under the wall? The gray toad jumps in the damp and moldy wetland. It is the only thing full of joy and vitality at the bottom of autumn rain. Its back is gray and yellow. The pattern is in harmony with the dreary sky. It plops into the mud from the grass and measures the dark green spray. Silver gray sticky spider silk weaves a soft web, covering the whole autumn world. ...