Rain is the tears of clouds. Modern poetry.

The sky is gray.

Lonely and silent

It has been raining.

It was the tears of the cloud that hit it.

Autumn spreads in the water.

Lie wet

Not a ray of light.

Without a trace of direction

From all sides

Clouds, caged in fog

Can't tell the sky apart

Can't tell the earth apart

As soon as autumn is over, fog will come.

Every tear of the cloud

Destined to turn into autumn fog.

The more it rains, the thicker the fog becomes.

People familiar with it

Laugh with the clouds and cry with the rain.

The past and the present are intertwined, and the sound hurts.

No matter where your back is

It's all smooth rain.

Fog obscured the view.

Autumn rain became a premeditated fate.

Moist vegetation

Wet the courtyard

Wet cinnamon soil

But I didn't see all the mountains. The maple leaves are covered with fog beads.

Not every maple leaf is red.

This place was dying before the first frost.

Try to remember your thoughts firmly in the rain.

Wet, can't say, can't give up.

Thinking of your heart, hiding in the fog

The rain is on it.

The wind roared and the thunder rumbled.

Blow away the dark clouds

Tears gradually dry.

Across time and space, wandering like rain.

What is visible and what is invisible.

Mixed with absurdity, absurdity

With the fragrance of osmanthus.

Come in orderly

Tears, wet, seem a little hot.

It was, and it will always be.

Pick some flowers, clean them, fold them and put them away.

Sprinkle gold into my lines.

It's not just the rain that shines.

And floating clouds.

Gradually golden.