Listen to the rain quietly and watch it fall. They are singing and dancing. They splash and jump, and there is rain in the wind and wind in the rain, which is seamless. Flying raindrops just want to be smashed into pieces after splashing, just want to stir up ripples, slide down on windows, drop on leaves and flow into people's hearts. It's so calm and peaceful.
In this alley with buttonwood trees on both sides, the rain falls gently. It washes the blue-gray stone road and the bright green buttonwood leaves. Everything becomes bright. The hidden moss is as bright as hair dye and as green as dye. Occasionally, people with umbrellas pass by this quiet alley, but they always walk slowly, looking at this painting and listening to this poem.
An impetuous heart gradually calmed down. ...
I don't want to take an umbrella in such a light rain. I always feel that this crystal raindrop is a sacred messenger and an incarnation of holiness, which will wash away all the dirt. And I am willing to accept his baptism and let him fall and hit my hair.
Those children who are playing in the rain don't know if they think so. Cheerful laughter and crisp rain mingle. ...
I think the dance spirit is the soul of rain.
He flew in the world, turned into the hope of awakening, turned into the sadness of broken soul, and turned into endless poems.
It's quiet and doesn't bother anyone. ...
This April rain is still falling quietly.