Listening to the Cold Rain by Yu Guangzhong, a modern writer;
Prose: listening to the rain on the roof;
Modern writer Wang Guozhen: Random Thoughts on Rain;
Modern writer Yu Guangzhong: Ghost Rain.
Excerpt from the original:
After the shock, the cold in spring intensified. First, the material is steep, and then the rainy season begins, sometimes dripping, sometimes wet, even in the dream, it seems to have an umbrella. With an umbrella, you can avoid a cold rain and the whole rainy season. Even my thoughts are wet. Going home every day, it is a dream to walk into the rain and wind from Jinmen Street to Xiamen Street. It's sad to think of Taipei like this. This is a completely black-and-white movie. I think the whole history of China and China is nothing more than a black-and-white movie. It rained like this from beginning to end. I wonder if this feeling comes from antonioni. But that land was a long time ago. Twenty-five years, a quarter of a century, even if it rains, Qian Shan is full of water, and the umbrella is across Qian Shan. In fifteen years, everything was broken, only the climate, only the weather forecast was involved, and a big cold current rolled in from that land. This indifference is shared with the ancient continent. It is a comfort to your children that you can't jump into her arms and be swept by her skirt.
When I think so, I feel a little warm in the cold. In this way, he hopes that these narrow alleys will extend forever, and his thinking can also be extended, not from Jinmen Street to Xiamen Street, but from Jinmen to Xiamen. He is from Xiamen, at least in a broad sense. For twenty years, he has been living in Xiamen Street instead of Xiamen, which is a mockery and a comfort. But in a broad sense, he is also a Jiangnan native, a Changzhou native, a Nanjing native, a Chuanwaer, and a teenager in a broad sense. The apricot blossom and spring rain in the south of the Yangtze River was his boyhood. It will be clear in half a month. Antonioni's lens tossed and turned, tossed and turned. Residual water is like water, and the earth after heaven is like water. There are thousands of people from north to south. Is there porcelain in it? China, of course, will always be China. It's just that the apricot blossom and spring rain are gone, the shepherd boy no longer gives directions, the sword gate is drizzling, and the dust in Weicheng is gone. However, where is the land he dreams of day and night?
Sometimes, it is raining outside, but the sun is shining in my heart; Sometimes, it is sunny outside, but it is raining. There are many things in the world for you to taste in comparison. The heart is clear, and the rain is clear; When the heart is raining, sunny is also rain.
In the rainy season, thinking of the eaves and listening to the rain have a unique aesthetic feeling. Although it is not like splashing in the whirlpool of a small river, rushing into the beach of the sea, or in the secluded alley of a small town, there is also the pleasant feeling that Mao Mao rain sings softly, moderate rain summons things, and heavy rain flies sand and stones. Needless to say, the trickle gave me the combing of the rain and the meticulous harmony of the rain; Needless to say, the swing that rolled around to me, the play against the rain, and the fire against the rain made me restless and full of emotions. Rain is the surprise of my childhood, and rain is the joy of my childhood. I am looking for the transformation of childlike interest in this rainy world. I remember that Longjiang has grown so much in this rainy field of vision.