Every drop of rain once had its own dreams
Little by little triviality, covering up the vicissitudes of the years
At the end of autumn, I heard the howling of the cold wind, like the heavy groans of the earth.
A rain that stretches from summer to winter soaks the world to the skin. A window fills our desire for a blue sky.
The season extends so blandly that it loses its color and temperature.
But we are in such a bland, faintly brewing in our own happiness.
Think about what kind of meal you make and change the taste. It might be more fun to play the game another way. Musical instruments that have not been played for a long time, take it out and stroke it, spread out a few pieces of rice paper, and write and draw something at will.
It was as if we were still missing something, so we had more words, bits and pieces of trivial days.
Little by little triviality, just like the rain outside the window, unconsciously covers up the vicissitudes and appearance of the years.
Perhaps every drop of rain has its own dreams, and it also wants to flash out the seven colors of the sun, and thousands of drops of rain gather, and the sunshine is nowhere to be found.
Those lost splendors are only because of blind obedience. So I just want to be that drop in your hand, flashing your gaze, my colorful.
Suzhu 2022 in Mian County
This article is the 6th chapter of Su Zhu's long prose poem "The Tea Fragrance of Life", and the full text consists of 80 chapters. Welcome to the bamboo poetry review column "Bamboo Garden Poetry - Idyllic Years, Poetic Life". Original works, infringement is strictly prohibited.