In the morning of early spring, it began to rain, and a lot of love came in the drizzle of early spring. In the early spring morning, cold and wet air came to my window across the street. It began to rain, and I stopped at the window without makeup. I can't sleep all night, tears streaming down my face, perseverance warms you, but I have to choose to leave you.
A sad and painful heart is like being peeled off by a steel knife and left in a mirage in an uninhabited neighborhood. Facing the disturbing reality is so fragile, we have too many problems, and I can't stand your embarrassment. I am more worried that I will break the gap that you can't see, hinder my progress, precipitate and reshape myself. I want to indulge purely in the rain outside, and my love falls in the rain in early spring.
A modern poem about spring rain: the drizzle like ox hair falls to the ground, and through some transparent light, it is obviously the brilliance of the sun. I squinted for the shadow of the sun, but I couldn't see it. Walking in the spring rain, my heart is dancing in the rain, and there is infinite joy. Rain drops on my eyelashes and across my cheeks.