I planted a pool of acacia in the gentle spring rain
Author 丨YuJia Wenyuan 丨 Mulan Shuxiang
Edit: Ichimon Fangfei
The spring breeze is like a pen, lightly painting the March scene on earth. Flowing water is like a string, gently stroking the fingers to sew thousands of years of sand. Long song leaning on the building, sycamore shadow sparse, Qiong pot drunk moon, wine cup cold.
In the old days, the green lanes, the herbs were speechless, the old people have gone, the cape is the end of the world. You once said that you would like to forget the prosperity of the world for me, who would have thought that this life would be exhausted, just to wait for a untouchable love! That's it, that's it...
Do you remember, when you met on the stone bridge, you handed me a paper umbrella and gave me expectations, after which the figure with fluttering clothes disappeared into the gentle spring rain.
Spring is not old, and the wind blows fine willows. Unconsciously, he was already red-faced, toasted and drunk, dazed and another year old. Flowing years on the shore of the water, enjoying the full moon and lack of moon, this year's flowers have fallen on the shoulders, and the king has a strange road. Rain flooded the windows, acacia shore long.
The spring rain fell on my cheeks like silk, touching a piece of softness that penetrated my heart. The wet pavement, stepping on it and splashing with water, my heart trembled slightly, and the scene of playing in the rain seemed to be in front of me again.
Inadvertently, the fingertips touched the annual rings of thoughts, and the ripples of the starting points rippled. The night was hazy, and the sound of rain fell on the heart. Thoughts, dancing in the night sky, condensed breathing.
There is no shore on the other side of the blossom, and the soul is still in the river. The flowers do not understand the flowers, and the fate of the fate is dancing. A few together, a little separated, a few vicissitudes fluttering with the wind like a fly.
The past is like smoke, and the deepest emotions are always left. A few years of sorrow. Missed the fate, missed the love, but did not miss each other's thoughts. If there is a reunion, I would like to stay on the other side of the years, let the stream of time, and the thoughts flow slowly, waiting for the spring to blossom.
A sunny afternoon, a cup of tea, a bamboo chair, a book, reading and going are all you. I planted an unknown tree in the courtyard, light red flowers, clumps, clusters, blooming on the rare green leaves, I gave it a name "Spring Return".
With a wisp of fresh wind, a shallow relief of worries, silence into a flower; twist a touch of feelings, exile thoughts, pure beauty like the moon. The rings of life are like dreams, and in the story of aging, an anecdote of sadness and joy is interpreted. Falling red with the flowing water, thinking leisurely, reading leisurely, sending a song to the king, do not ask the song to disperse.
Yesterday, I was drunk and laughing, leaning on the fence alone. The river is lonely, and the two sides of the river are dark green. Waiting for you a drunken rain in Jiangnan, what awaits you is a lovesickness as thin as a cicada's wing.
"Missing" is like an ancient dictionary, freely traveling in the long river of history. The number of pages in the dictionary has not changed, the original meaning of the text has not changed, but the book has become thicker and thicker.
"When will the two places cherish the spring breeze and join hands?" The red of the years embellished the spring and autumn of the first life; the never-ending river of time can not dilute the glass of wine of true feelings. The spring rain is gentle, rolling up soft feelings, and my thoughts, like the turquoise of the pool, grow wildly in the gentle spring rain.
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⊙ Author: Yu Jia, formerly known as Lou Ying, is a Chinese teacher at Tianjin High School and a columnist for "Mulan Shuxiang". Practitioner of language teaching, lover of language and literature. Peace of mind and love of life.