When I grow up, I don't pay so much attention to see if there are clouds and rain in the sky. The four seasons of reincarnation are either rich, alternating with success or failure, or mixed with sadness and joy. The sky is not so high, nor so far away. There was only one sight distance.
When you see the sea, you can't help thinking of the blue sky. Same blue, different layout, one on the top of the head and one on the side. That blue vision, the same appreciation, different tastes. How far is the sky? There is only a thin line between them.
Another night, the clouds are still floating with the wind, and the stars are still gentle. The blue of the sky becomes blurred, and the darkness is mixed with the line of sight of light, which is constantly blurred in clarity and gradually clear in ambiguity. Samsara, alternation, turned out to be my sky.
No longer follow how far the sky is, the charm of sex and rain, and the expectation of snow and snow will come in time. The four seasons are distinct, and the artistic conception is difficult to distinguish. The sky of life is also the alternation of reincarnation. Without rational appreciation, no matter how beautiful the scenery is, no matter how beautiful the sky is, no matter how close the distance is, it is all a kind of depression. The mood is the sky, but it is as blue as the sea.
Unconsciously, I will feel that there is no distance between a sky and me. The beauty of blue is in my mind, and the blue mood is the most beautiful ornament.
My sky, as rich as the four seasons, is in my mind. Sky in rainy season (prose poem)
yang jianguo
The distant sky is full of tears like a song, like deep thoughts under a wet umbrella. On rainy days, the mood is always as heavy as this gloomy sky, and the mood is like this peach slowly diving into the silent river.
How can the stranded ship sail out of the curved harbor? Does that white sail still belong to you tonight? At present, the river drifting in late spring is full of spring scenery. Which shining petal is my sky?
Two small rotating umbrellas are brewing unspeakable winter, and a cold landscape blocks two thin walls. On the other side of the wall, around the story that has remained unchanged for thousands of years, the spring rain is dripping and the street lights are wet.
Several bundles of melancholy hung between Yumei's eyelids, hanging in a long winter. When the spring warbler comes, the sky will still be a long rainy season.
Who broke the willow branches and inserted them in the unopened heart embankment, interacting with sad tunes every night, burying the incomplete memories and letting the rain wet the sad eyes?
In the rainy season, the sky is full of acacia vines, and pure thoughts are covered by the flowers that bloom next time. In the fresh petals, there are eighteen spring and autumn fantasies and towering beliefs that stand on the head of the rainy season.
Under the umbrella, the fairy tale dyed with spring scenery opens again. Can that tired little umbrella write an intriguing poem?
The rainy season sky still shows a faint smile. Is there still your beautiful image in that smile?