The landscape is interesting - it is spring rain again
(It's spring rain again)
Text: Zhou Zheng
It was spring rain again, rain in Genting.
The rain began to fall, and it went with the wind and with the fog. The cloud is low like a fluorescent board, and the shape of the rain is written.
The wind stopped, the clouds did not move, the sky was still as if it were exhausted, but the rain sang like Zen and Sanskrit. This rain caused trouble in the heart, and the world left an empty silence.
Oh, the rain was singing low, turning the depression in the heart into a wave of happiness, and yukong's nostalgia was three feet high.
The rain gently blows on the clouds, and the bamboo sea rises up the fairy mist, far away from the verdant fields into the spring shot. Standing in the bamboo building, in the sound of rain to find the distant years, the verdant sky releases the communication of the soul, the language of the year, the sound of the waves in the heart is still the same, the bamboo is flowing, the rain is also free, all because of the fairy fog of the cloud top, the rain evokes the fragrance of the earth. The rhythmic drip of rain quietly flows into the bottom of the heart, and it becomes a burst of "Guangling San" that is as strong as iron.
The rain of the clouds purifies the soul, evokes the memories of heaven and earth, and spreads the sound of heaven and earth far. The green pines hold their heads high in the rain, and the rain becomes a pavilion of jade lotuses; the green lake water ripples, and the mandarin ducks and birds hug each other for thousands of years. The rain of genting, the stacked pictures, the albums of segments, the poetry of words.
I would like to say that the spring rain is gentle, the spring bamboo is euphemistic, the spring mountain is heroic, and the spirit of spring wild. I stood in the bamboo building, and the pouring rain evoked my poetry. Tenderness was scattered on the ground, and the sea in front of me was green and green, becoming more and more fresh and full of life. The rain, pity for the jade wildflowers, imprinted the clouds and smoke of the past, swept away a trace of impetuosity, and smoothed out the traces.
Rain, wisps of dripping, sleeves and green leaves heart pulse, that shy intimacy, lament poetry and painting to set the spirit of all things, because there is rain, the freedom of rain, the feelings of rain, the love of rain.
Standing in the bamboo building, it is a boat on the sea, waking up in the fairy fog, listening to the whispers of the rain, the pleasant rain, eliminating the sorrow in the heart, intoxicating rain, the time Shaohua, emitting a kind of ancient freehand.
The rain in Genting is a kind of catharsis, but also a kind of clear height, because there is bamboo. Here, I heard the four seasons of life.
One point number Zhou Zheng literature column