Rain in memory

When the rain in the air hits, the smell of mixed earth and the fragrance of flowers spreads out, and the swaying lotus is hit by this rain, which is the truest greeting.

Sitting on the matza, alone in front of the rain curtain, the lonely and proud heart will watch the rain, listen to the rain, and enjoy the rain together; it will also be high, bathed in the rain, cherishing every piece of rain.

The gentle wind accompanied by the light rain always does not stop, and it is caressed uninterruptedly, as if the Southern Song Dynasty poet mournfully chanted: red cherries, green plantains, rain-moist window ledges. At this time, the bluestone slab sprinkled on the way home became urgent, and the crisp laughter was crisp, which was the child's step home. I looked at them as if I were looking at the ancient paintings of old mountains and old waters, their raised hair, and the rain they rubbed, which were so beautiful. With the rapid slowing, the wooden door opened on the side, followed by the mixture of cooking smoke and Wu Nong's soft language.

The days in the north are rainy, but I love rain. When I like it to the point of not being able to do it, I will cut a piece out of the rain curtain, masturbate myself at home, and the sound of the rain around my ears is so pleasant that if I can hold it as a pen, I will be able to be extraordinary; if I can turn it into a heart, I will be able to wind and frost. How can I give it up? I would like to listen to its soft rain, to caress its soft body, to look at its soft color, and it will be high in my heart.

"Leave the lotus to listen to the sound of the rain" This is the eternal desolation and loneliness.

"Lying down at night to listen to the wind and rain, the iron horse glacier comes to sleep." This is patriotic loyalty to the death.

The rain curtain in front of me was much thinner, and I stretched out my hand, like the silk at the top, the ice of the Arctic. My heart, my eyes, and my raised arms melt into them, how can I give it up? How can I waste it? I closed my eyes and tasted it carefully, remembering its taste, its sound, its appearance.

The rain has fallen, only left in the palm of the hand, the only hold, think about it, but sprinkle it to the sky, I am sorry for the rain, after all, it belongs to nature. Instead of this, it is better to ask it to give another rain!