In this noisy city, it is extremely enjoyable to sit down and listen to the sound of rain.
The city uses its busy hands to take pictures of the hurried figures of urban people, and then casually pastes the photos on the streets and alleys of the city. How many people in a hurry can have such leisure? Want to listen to the sound of rain?
In every place in the world, the sound of rain is different, right? As long as it is not a violent storm, the sound of rain is like light music. The rain in Jiangnan in summer It should be the most beautiful. The rain hitting the lotus leaves is like the music played by the guzheng, as clear and clear as the sound of beads. The rain hitting the banana trees from all over the world is like the music played by the long flute, which is sad and beautiful.
The rain in Chengdu is actually very gentle in this season. It carries the fragrance of flowers and the sweetness of mud. It always drifts gently at night, and the rustle is like a nightingale singing. Always overnight, the city is covered by the spring rain. Moisturized flowers are blooming, and the orioles are flying and the grass is growing. When you get up early, it is still raining a little, and you will see that the back seat of Soduo's bicycle is filled with bright and beautiful flowers, and he is sitting on the rocking chair in front of the window. Open a book and listen to The sound of rain, the silky rain curtain outside the window carries me far away.
Listening to the rain through the window, through the rain and mist, through a curtain of silver rain, knotting nostalgia on the dripping branches, hanging on the tips of green leaves .
The rain in my hometown is gentle. It will come suddenly and nourish your dusty soul. Listening to the sound of rain at night is like a lullaby sung by your mother. The rain curtain brought me to the tiled roof of my hometown. The tiles were connected one after another. The roof was as bright as silver gray in the rain. The rain beat on the green tiles, like a girl's delicate hands plucking the strings and playing beautiful music. Listen to the sound of rain. At first, the tiled roof made an intermittent sound, like a mountain spring. Later, the sound of rain was as fast as a drum. "It's messy and messy, big and small beads falling on the jade plate" can also be used to say this The sound of rain. Slowly, the sound of rain is as gentle as trickling, dripping along the eaves, and thousands of pearls fly down on the bluestone. The sound of raindrops is like the sound of a girl tapping a xylophone, which resonates in the soul. deep. The sound of ancient music, like mother Ni's words, always rings in my ears.
The rain in my hometown has a special feeling. It is my mother’s affectionate call. In the rain, a red umbrella rotated, and my mother held an oil-paper umbrella and walked over the long bluestone slab. The young and delicate face, the red umbrella, the silk rain curtain, the mother's kind face, the faint smile, are a faint landscape painting that cannot be erased. The red umbrella turns and the falling raindrops splash out with a gentle and continuous rhythm. My mother's soft tone and my carefree voice when I was a child are as beautiful as the sounds of nature. The most affectionate call from my mother in the rain, "Yu'er, come home------" cut through the rain curtain, passed through decades of wind and frost, and remained in the warmest place in my heart together with the sound of rain. The sound of rain contains a touch of nostalgia.
You can’t hear the sound of rain like this in today’s city. In this city, which is called “the city you don’t want to leave once you come,” tall buildings have replaced tiled houses. There is no more the beautiful sound of rain hitting the west window and dripping on the eaves. Although the rain came gently, it splashed on the concrete pavement. The sound was like dull gongs and drums, a bit heavy and uneasy. Being able to take some time off, let the sound of rain carry me to my hometown, listen to the sound of rain when I was a child, and think about my mother's words. This is indeed due to the deep concern in my heart. Listening to the sound of rain, deep in your heart, you will feel less impetuous and more comforted.
Listen to the sound of rain, sit quietly in front of the window, listen to the soft sound of rain outside the window, and your mood will relax. The sound of rain will wash away the fatigue of the glitzy city and wash away the sadness in your soul. tired.
Listen to the sound of rain... 500-word essay describing the sound of rain!
The rain seems like thousands of magic fingers, like thousands of strings, playing ever-changing sounds. sound.
Spring rain is soft, summer rain is rough, autumn rain is desolate, and winter rain is chilling; the moods vary depending on the seasons. However, the color of the rain is still beautiful and the sound of the rain is just as pleasant.
In pictures, music and poetry, there are many excellent works describing rain. The lines, colors and music melody are ethereal and clear.
The light raindrops are like mist, white, kissing people's faces, making them feel slightly itchy; they also lightly wet their clothes. Umbrellas are like sails, floating up and down in the misty rain; they are also like big wings, boundless in the southeast, northwest, and flying in all directions due to the wind.
The silent rain is better than the sound; the funny rain is really joyful. You don’t need to wear a raincoat and take a stroll outdoors. The rain is like honey and wine, nourishing your soul.
——This dreamy rain, this strange rain, is so dreamy that it makes people imagine.
I remember the spring rain of apricot blossoms in the south of the Yangtze River. The raindrops beat on the canopy of the boat, and there is also the fragrance of pear blossoms in the rain. I remember the summer rain in the West Lake, dripping with vitality, and the lotus leaves all over the lake were beaten loudly. I remember the autumn rain in Tianmu Mountain. The fog was deep and the trees were rustling. The pines and cypresses holding up the sky were washed by the rain and looked particularly vigorous. I remember the winter rain on the Fuchun River, which made me weep and complain. The smoke from the huts on both sides of the river was gloomy, like a stained pencil drawing.
A drizzly and breezy night is suitable for reading poetry and prose. On a stormy night, horror novels are suitable. Otherwise, just invite a few close friends, make a few cups of strong tea, buy a bag of peanuts, light a candle, and pretend it's something else. Wind and rain are more suitable for cherishing people, because cherishing people often makes you sleepless; every sound of wind and rain is like a whisper of separation.
That summer, I sat with my friends in Chunqiu Pavilion.
At that time, the water chestnuts were already ripe, and on the lotus pond, villagers were busy picking them in small boats; the white clouds in the sky contrasted with the egrets on the water. The showers came suddenly, like thousands of horses galloping; half of the mountain suddenly disappeared, leaving only the dense rain, which densely hung bead curtains on the lotus pond. In the shower, the boats collecting water chestnuts still swayed calmly. The people on the boat were not even wearing raincoats.
Southern Taiwan doesn’t get much rainfall. Especially in Kaohsiung, the sky is filled with dust; dust is thickly accumulated on the branches and leaves. After a shower, the green becomes completely new. After the rain, Shoushan looks down charmingly at the silent river of love; the silver-scaled water waves are also dyed green by the green mountains.
On the river embankment, on the row of concrete pillars, the porcelain covers of the row of street lamps are like white jade balls embedded in the landscape, vaguely showing the scenery of the West Lake.
"In the spring rain, the roof of the building is swaying, when will we return to watch the tide in Zhejiang?"
That, that, the sound of rain? I don't understand. Did I write this? I don’t know, just make do with it! Listen to the Sound of Rain Composition 600 words
Article 1
Send away the last cold wave of winter, and the spring rain will always come as promised. The ingredients are steep and dripping. The wind is gentle, the rain is falling, and in the long alleys and short alleys of Jiangnan, there are lavender lilac women holding oil-paper umbrellas, a dense ink painting. The word "smoke" is vivid and just right, capturing the charm of the spring rain in the south of the Yangtze River. Thinking of the ancient saying "Fireworks descend in Yangzhou in March", the word "smoke" should refer to the rain in March in the south of the Yangtze River.
As I thought about it, the rain felt a little warm. The willow buds, peach blossoms, and pink apricots all came in response to the call, shaking off the laziness of the winter, and taking a baptism first, giving them a brand new beauty and freshness. Squeeze on the branches, show off, and then carefully talk about the thoughts that have been accumulated for a season.
The room is warm. It's raining outside the window. He stretched out his hand and drew the word "rain" on the dim window, dots and drops. Did Cangjie's inspiration come from this visual experience? The spirit of Chinese characters is eternal. Pounding and tossing, all the clouds and rain are already in the words, and all the words are suspected of being pale, just the word "rain" is enough. The patter and patter of rain penetrated into people's bodies, making it difficult to stop. Then the heart will become wet, like unfinished rice paper that has been splashed and smudged. Unknowingly, Wuming's thoughts had begun a soaring journey.
The memory of listening to the rain originated from the sound of rain on the tiled roofs of my childhood hometown. Raindrops hit the tiles, making a crisp sound. Thousands of black and gray tiles replaced the black and white keys, and the raindrops made a broken noise, gentle murmurs, and rhythmic breathing, from far to near, and then from near to far. "Big beads and small beads fall on a jade plate", I read it and understood it, but it originated from this. In the trance, I can still see thousands of dots, which merge into wisps and strings, gurgling down from the eaves, splashing small water splashes, rippling in circles, and my heart will also ripple. "The rain is gurgling outside the curtain", does this sentence come from this? Today people don’t know. Watch the rain trickle away again, either to find the fragrance in the soil, or to moisten the dryness. Silence is the night, the sound of rain is soft and densely woven into a net, covering the noise of the world and caressing the troubles of the outside world. Like the softest hands in the world, touch my ears, then rub my heart, giving me a dream without any disturbance. Now living in the reinforced concrete forest, thousands of gray and black tiles have imitated butterflies dancing in the dust, and the music of the tiles has begun to fade away.
There was a time when I didn’t want to hold an umbrella in the rain and let the raindrops kiss my long hair. When the wind blows, my clothes flutter, and I imagine a purple umbrella floating from the opposite side, with a smiling face like the warm spring breeze under the umbrella, walking side by side with me under the umbrella, without speaking, just listening to the music of raindrops on the umbrella. Soft and warm, it rubs into the blood and bone marrow, penetrates the soul, and merges into the color of an umbrella in the heart. Only when my clothes were soaked did I think of giving myself an umbrella. The colors that changed from time to time showed my mood like raindrops. Walking under the umbrella, you are completely away from the sound of rain. Thousands of glasses of wine can ease our thoughts, and thousands of drops of rain can make our hearts sad if we forget each other. Passing away in silence, beauty twilight. "Yellow-leafed trees in the rain, white-headed people under the lamp", listen to the sound of rain, it is quiet, pure and close.
The sound of rain may be the most primitive percussion music. The night I went to Hangzhou, it rained suddenly and non-stop. When I opened the window of my accommodation room, I could see the shade of green trees. The broad-leaf trees bear the raindrops, but they never sound sonorous, but sometimes they sound like waterfalls, and sometimes they sound like broken jade. The ancients composed "Rain Beating the Plantains", which must have been inspired by their feelings. They heard the rain raining for a long time and then bursting like a rainbow, which was out of control, so they got this unique sound. "Shanglue rains at dusk", the vision is blurred, clouds and smoke gather, just like the mountains and rivers of the Song Dynasty. Holding a cup of hot tea, leaning against the window lattice, you can vaguely see Li Qingzhao's "The parasol trees are drizzling, and the drizzle is falling bit by bit at dusk." The sparse raindrops drop on the sycamore tree, and I feel sad for more than a thousand times. Knocking and knocking, from noon to dusk, and then into the night, my heart that had turned to desert began to feel a little warmer.
The shower knocked on the lotus leaves, and Li Yishan left the remaining lotuses to listen to the sound of rain, or "the tong hibiscus sun fell, and it was lonely after the rain." There are many words about rain that have been passed down from ancient times to the present. How to read and pronounce them , they are all desolate and desolate. It makes people miss home, miss their relatives, and feel nostalgic. Go boating on the West Lake and listen to the rain, the patter is like the sound of a zither, and the clatter is like a war drum. It has been a thousand years since the bridge was broken, the silk umbrella has passed away, but it is still lingering, where is the lover? How come there are so many sad and beautiful love stories left behind, but the sound of rain is missing? If there is no spiritual rain, this resort, which is comparable to heaven, will definitely lack some spiritual energy and will not give people the most gentle and weak touch.
I kept thinking about Jiang Jie, who spent his whole life listening to the rain. The young man listened to the rain under the red tent, the middle-aged listened to the rain in the boat, and the old man listened to the rain under the monk's hut, leaving a piece of the pain of the death of the Song Dynasty. Just as I sighed in my peripheral vision, a sensitive heart is made of cold raindrops. Ten years later, "No matter how heroic and heroic you are, I'm afraid you won't be able to withstand the wind and rain over and over again." The rain hit, and my heart became cold, leaving nothing to listen to the rain's last song for eternity.
I will always do something I want to do and think something I want quietly on a rainy night alone. Loneliness is a person’s carnival. When you are tired, listen to the patter outside the window, and wish in your heart to be as calm as water. Listen to the sound of rain, settle your thoughts, and let the ups and downs rise and fall. Like meditation in yoga, open your heart and wipe yourself. I am just a mortal, like an ant among all living beings, there will always be some patches. No one can forget everything they think should be forgotten. In this secular world, it is rare to find an absolute pure land. I have always longed to go to the mountain forest after the rain, where the mist is thick, the green is as new, and the birds and insects are chirping sparsely. Look for the traces of raindrops and listen to the lingering sound after the rain has passed. I don’t want to be able to go around the beams, but I want to be able to get the Sanskrit sounds from the Bamboo Sea that I yearn for and cleanse my heart.
Time is passing by, and the seas will turn into mulberry fields. Listen to the sound of the rain. It has traveled all the way from ancient times to today. How much thin or thick dirt has been washed away. It is still pouring and pattering. It remains unchanged forever, and the feelings remain the same as before. If there is a heart, there will be rain, and if there is rain, there will be sound. How many people listen to the rain, listening to the same rain, but thinking about different things. The most romantic thing I can think of is that when I get old, I just want to sit at the door or in front of the window, holding a book and a cup of tea, staying away from the hustle and bustle of the world, quietly listening to the rain.
Article 2
In this noisy city, it is extremely enjoyable to sit down and listen to the sound of rain.
The city uses its busy hands to take pictures of the hurried figures of urban people, and then casually pastes the photos on the streets and alleys of the city. How many people in a hurry can have such leisure? Want to listen to the sound of rain?
In every place in the world, the sound of rain is different, right? As long as it is not a violent storm, the sound of rain is like light music. The rain in Jiangnan in summer It should be the most beautiful. The rain hitting the lotus leaves is like the music played by the guzheng, as clear and clear as the sound of beads. The rain hitting the banana trees from all over the world is like the music played by the long flute, which is sad and beautiful.
The rain in Chengdu is actually very gentle in this season. It carries the fragrance of flowers and the sweetness of mud. It always drifts gently at night, and the rustle is like a nightingale singing. Always overnight, the city is covered by the spring rain. Moisturized flowers are blooming, and the orioles are flying and the grass is growing. When you get up early, it is still raining a little, and you will see that the back seat of Soduo's bicycle is filled with bright and beautiful flowers, and he is sitting on the rocking chair in front of the window. Open a book and listen to The sound of rain, the silky rain curtain outside the window carries me far away.
Listening to the rain through the window, through the rain and mist, through a curtain of silver rain, knotting nostalgia on the dripping branches, hanging on the tips of green leaves .
The rain in your hometown is gentle. It will come suddenly and nourish your dusty soul. Listening to the sound of the rain at night is like a lullaby sung by your mother. The rain curtain brought me to the tiled roof of my hometown. The tiles were connected one after another. The roof was as bright as silver gray in the rain. The rain beat on the green tiles, like a girl's delicate hands plucking the strings and playing beautiful music. Listen to the sound of rain. At first, the tiled roof made an intermittent sound, like a mountain spring. Later, the sound of rain was as fast as a drum. "It's messy and messy, big and small beads falling on the jade plate" can also be used to say this The sound of rain. Slowly, the sound of rain is as gentle as trickling, dripping along the eaves, and thousands of pearls fly down on the bluestone. The sound of raindrops is like the sound of a girl tapping a xylophone, which resonates in the soul. deep. The sound of ancient music, like mother Ni's words, always rings in my ears.
The rain in my hometown has a special feeling. It is my mother’s affectionate call. In the rain, a red umbrella rotated, and my mother held an oil-paper umbrella and walked over the long bluestone slab. The young and delicate face, the red umbrella, the silk rain curtain, the mother's kind face, the faint smile, are a faint landscape painting that cannot be erased. The red umbrella turns and the falling raindrops splash out with a gentle and continuous rhythm. My mother's soft tone and my carefree voice when I was a child are as beautiful as the sounds of nature. The most affectionate call from my mother in the rain, "Yu'er, come home------" cut through the rain curtain, passed through decades of wind and frost, and remained in the warmest place in my heart together with the sound of rain. The sound of rain contains a touch of nostalgia.
You can’t hear the sound of rain like this in today’s city. In this city, which is called “the city you don’t want to leave once you come,” tall buildings have replaced tiled houses. There is no more the beautiful sound of rain hitting the west window and dripping on the eaves. Although the rain came gently, it splashed on the concrete pavement. The sound was like dull gongs and drums, a bit heavy and uneasy. Being able to take some time off, let the sound of rain carry me to my hometown, listen to the sound of rain when I was a child, and think about my mother's words. This is indeed due to the deep concern in my heart. Listening to the sound of rain, deep in your heart, you will feel less impetuous and more comforted.
Listen to the sound of rain, sit quietly in front of the window, listen to the soft sound of rain outside the window, and your mood will relax. The sound of rain will wash away the fatigue of the glitzy city and wash away the sadness in your soul. tired.
Listen to the sound of rain...composition about the sound of rain, do not write it online
In the mysterious and unpredictable nature, a sound is my favorite, she always Like the gentle and melodious sound of a flute, sometimes like the rolling waves of the sea, this is the sound of rain.
I have liked rain since I was a child, and I like to listen to the sound of rain even more. Listening to the crisp sound of rain, my heart will follow it and drift out of the window. The sound of rain is sometimes rustling, sometimes rushing, sometimes crackling, like a violin concerto, and also seems to be the sound of nature created by nature.
Rain is weak and the lightest thing in the world. They fell to the ground and poured onto the roof, trees, roads, and grass, turning into a string of beautiful notes and playing beautiful music. At this time, closing your eyes and listening to the sound of drizzle is like lying in the embrace of nature, enjoying the meticulous care of your mother.
At first, the rain was not heavy, and the sound was very soft, like a girl floating on the strings of a piano, like a spring silkworm devouring mulberry leaves, with endless changes. Ding-ding-dong-dong, like countless pearls falling on a jade plate, and like ancient music beating on the roof, sometimes soft and sometimes strong, sometimes far and sometimes close, heavy and gentle, thin and dense, just like the words in Yu Boya's "Mountains and Flowing Waters" pondered. It is as tender as water, as if it is telling the gentle heart again.
Later, the rain became heavier and heavier. The sound of the rain became impassioned, like hundreds of horses roaring in unison, and thousands of horses galloping; it was so loud that it made a crackling sound on the leaves, so loud that even the water flowing down the eaves could be heard clearly, crisp and sweet, it was really called "big" "Pearls falling on the jade plate" makes people feel relaxed and happy. Occasionally, when there is a gust of wind, the branches will twist and the leaves will whir, squeezing out thousands of water droplets, flying down and symphony with the flowing water under the eaves, just like the passion in Mozart's "Sonata". Listening, my heart is intoxicated by the sound of rain. At this time, I couldn't help but think of what the ancients often said: "I lie down at night and listen to the wind and rain, and I fall asleep on the iron horse and the glacier."
Gradually, the rain became lighter and lighter, and returned to its original appearance. The excitement at that time seems to have gone forever, and the sound of rain is still singing softly, filling my heart. It makes my heart feel extremely happy. I think my future life will be like this rain, full of hope and fantasy. Listening to the Rain Composition
"The rain was gurgling outside the curtain, the spring was fading, and the quilt couldn't bear the cold at dawn." When it was almost dawn, the gurgling rain woke the poet up, and he heard a desolation. The sound of rain also contains sadness and joy. And I have a listening heart, and gradually, listening to the rain becomes a kind of beauty in the habit -
The flowers begin to bloom, and the spring rain comes with the gentle wind. Rustling, rustling, like a girl dancing gracefully, or like a friend whispering to each other. If it's night, sometimes you hear a rush of footsteps, like a mother running anxiously to find her child. Xusou is a kind of intimacy. Facing the window, I was mesmerized by the gentleness emanating from the rain.
The showers of summer rain bring me the joy of childhood. Only a few muffled thunder could be heard, and the sound of rain was like beating drums. The sound expresses the pride and ambition in the heart, which reminds people of the majestic Ansai waist drum - rapid, unrestrained, enthusiastic and flying. Accompanied by the sound of rain, I laughed and ran without restraint in the rain forest, enjoying the beauty of raindrops hitting the eaves, rising happily and falling gently. It was really a kind of beauty, it was really an indescribable beauty. flavor.
The rain in the mountains is fresh and elegant, and has a special feeling in my heart. Walking slowly along the wet winding mountain road, letting the rain play in the forest - sometimes fast, sometimes slow, sometimes loud, sometimes small, very similar to her emotions. Yu Ke doesn't care who you are, she is naughty and willful, without any modification or pretense of being delicate. Listening and listening, you unconsciously want to open your heart and talk to her without any grudges or suspicions.
I don’t know who has said that the sound of rain is the heartbeat of the earth and the cry of nature. So I kept trying to listen.
After a long time, I not only heard her tenderness, timelessness, and mellowness; I also heard her lightness, simplicity, and purity; I heard her freedom and freedom...