This morning, the weather was not kind and it was drizzling, which prevented me from doing morning exercises, but I was very happy because I could enjoy the scenery in the rain, which was also a great pleasure.
When I got up in the morning, I quickly got dressed, ran to the balcony, opened the window, and a cool smell rushed to me. It was so comfortable. Look, the houses over there are covered with crystal dewdrops, like pearls. Naughty little raindrops fall mischievously on the road and leaves, like children playing hide and seek, how cute! Look, the cars and bicycles on the road have all slowed down for safety and are driving in an orderly manner.
I was attracted by this scenery, so I came to a nearby square with an umbrella. When I got there, it was like a fairyland. The emerald green lawn is greedily sucking the milk of spring; the bright flowers of various colors are washing their beautiful hair; the branches with yellow leaves are waving green silk strips.
I licked the water slightly. Unexpectedly, the water was very sweet, just like the holy water sprinkled by the fairy from the branches. Now, it is about to enter the plum rain season, and the rainfall is heavy. The small concave holes are filled with the "tears" of Yunwawa. The soil also likes this water very much, so that her "children" can drink to their full.
Ah! What a beautiful scene, what a vibrant scene, what a wonderful scene in the rain! I try my best to breathe in the fresh morning air, nature, how wonderful you are!
3. Poets compete to paint rain: exchange poems about rain
Rain is a natural phenomenon and a natural landscape. Whenever it rains, many people, especially literati, tend to view the rain as a natural scene. Misty drizzle, heavy downpour, stormy rain... various rain patterns, as well as the sound of wind and rain when it rains, the momentum and sound of lightning and thunder, etc., can easily arouse the emotions of literati and writers, and stimulate their literary thoughts. It is said that "when a cloud has a black head, it should be the rain that prompts poetry" (Du Fu of the Tang Dynasty, "Encountering Rain at Night with a Prostitute in the Coolness"). Therefore, the ancients often included their observations and perceptions of rain in poems. Looking at the literature of the Chinese nation, there are many poems and articles about rain, and there are many famous poems and lines.
Poems about rain
Du Fu's "Spring Night Happy Rain": "Good rain knows the season, and spring will happen. It sneaks into the night with the wind, moistening things silently. The wild paths are all dark with clouds. , the river boat fire is bright. Look at the red and wet place at dawn, and the flowers are heavy in Jinguancheng. "Spring is the time when all things sprout and grow, and it is also a time when rain is very important. But spring rain is as precious as oil. If it rains in spring, isn't it "good rain"? ! The word "good" fully expresses the author's joyful mood at the sight of spring. Three or four sentences say that the spring rain comes with the breeze at night, quietly nourishing all things, and describes the role of the spring rain with delicate pen and ink. The last two sentences are about seeing the flowers in Jincheng Chengdu in the early morning, rosy under the nourishment of spring rain. The flowers are heavy and thick because they are full of rain. They are written with deep affection. There is not a single word "happy" in the whole poem, but the joy is beyond words.
Han Yu's "Early Spring Light Rain": "The light rain in the sky is as moist as crisp, and the color of grass looks far away but not up close. The most advantageous thing about spring is that it is better than the smoke and willows all over the imperial capital." The poet praised Xiao Yu with full passion. See the big in the small, embodying reason and emotion in the scenery. The "light rain" is compared to the first ripening of crisp wine, which tastes sweet, smooth and moist, and even the grass is stained with rain and dew. In the drizzle, the color of the grass is slightly green, invisible at near distance and greenish at distance. In the end, it comes down to the "benefits of a year of spring", and even the scenery of the Imperial Palace cannot compare. The scenery of early spring is described with detail and realism.
Zeng Ji's "Su Xiudao, it rained heavily for three days since the night of July 25th, the autumn seedlings were filled with Su, and they were happy and productive": "One night the scorching sun turned to rain, and the dream returned to the cold and moistened the clothes. . I don’t have to worry about the leaky house and the deep banks of the stream. The rice flowers should be beautiful at five o’clock, and the sound of the tung leaves is the best. Even if there is no field, I am still happy, not to mention the hope of the new year in the field. He was so happy that he didn't even care if his clothes and bed got wet, expressing the poet's joy for the rain and his concern for people's livelihood.
Su Shi's "Heavy Rain in Youmeitang": "There was a thunder under the feet of the tourists, and the stubborn clouds were all over the place. The black wind blew from the sky and the sea stood up, and the flying rain came across the river from eastern Zhejiang. The golden statue was very shining, Thousands of sticks beat the Jiegu drum to stir up the immortal spring, and pour the roses into the shark room." The whole poem vividly describes the scene before and after the storm: thunder roars, dark clouds blow from the sky, and the sea blows. The fact that it was erected shows its ferocity; the heavy rain flying with the wind and crossing the river from eastern Zhejiang shows its rapidity. The water in the lake swelled, the thunder thundered, and the poet's ideas burst out under the urging of the storm.
Qin Guan's "Spring Day": "Thousands of threads were struck by light thunder overnight, and the jade light was scattered across the floating tiles. The affectionate peonies contained spring tears, and the powerless roses lay on the branches of dawn." It wrote that the light thunder sounded and the spring rain pattered. And down. It cleared up after the rain, and the sun seemed to be floating among the green tiles that had just been washed by the rain. After the spring rain, the peonies are full of tears and full of affection; the roses lie down, delicate and cute. Although it mainly writes about the scenery after the rain, it also reveals the praise of the nourishing power of spring rain.
In addition to poems specifically about rain, there are many sentences describing rain and scenery in the rain in other poems by the ancients:
“The soaring clouds are like smoke, and the dense rain is like loose threads. "(Jin? Zhang Xie's "Ten Miscellaneous Poems") describes the rain as dense as scattered threads.
"The broken rainbow collects the rain, but there is no new current on the shore." ("Naoting on Houhu Lake" written by Chen Zhang Zhengjian of the Southern Dynasties) writes that the summer showers first stopped, the broken rainbow appeared on the horizon, and the rising water The lake water flows out from the gap, forming a new stream of water.
"The peach blossom rain makes your clothes wet, and the willow wind blows on your face without chilling it." ("Quequa" by Tang Seng Zhinan) When the apricot blossoms bloom. The drizzle is about to wet the clothes; the breeze blowing the willow branches makes people feel warm and sweet. The poet expresses his emotions in the scene, giving people a Zen artistic conception.
"See you in the drizzle pond. A good wind blows through your lapel sleeves." ("Autumn Thoughts" by Du Mei of the Tang Dynasty) The light rain falls, and the pond shrouded in the rain is full of artistic conception; when the good wind blows, the lapels and sleeves feel warm.
"It's raining hard." The mountain streams are rising, and the trees in Yunmi Ridge are low." ("Su Lingyan Temple" by Dai Shulun of the Tang Dynasty) describes what the poet saw on the mountain road at Lingyan Temple (located at the northwest foot of Yangtai Mountain in Fangshan County, Changqing County, a suburb of Jinan City). The scenery of the mountains in the rain.
"The wet clothes cannot be seen in the drizzle, and the flowers fall to the ground silently." (Tang Dynasty? Liu Changqing's "Farewell Yan Shiyuan") The drizzle in the clothes does not reveal their shape; the flowers fall to the ground. , without hearing its sound, it can be said to be described in detail.
"The fish come out in the drizzle, and the swallows slant in the breeze." (One of the Two Poems on the Water Threshold by Du Fu of the Tang Dynasty) Only "drizzle", The fish floats upward, but does not come out if there is heavy rain; only in the "breeze", the swallows float sideways, but does not fly even if there is a strong wind. The scenery in the breeze and drizzle is very subtle, and the description is full of interest.
"The pine trees at the bottom of the stream are shaken by the rain, and the bamboos in the courtyard are shaken by the autumn window." (Du Xunhe, Tang Dynasty, "Summer Inscription of Zhangshan Renlin Pavilion") The sound of rustling rain is compared to the sound of swaying tall pines, which makes the scenery interesting Interesting.
"The willow branches are heavy with rain, and the pine color is dark with smoke." (Tang Zhang said in "Junnan Pavilion Banquet") The willow branches are heavy with rain, and the branches and leaves are thicker. In the misty rain, the pine color is dark. Deep and heavy.
“The spring tide brings rain in a hurry, and there is no boat on the wild crossing.” (Tang Dynasty Wei Yingwu’s "Chuzhou West Stream") The spring tide rises violently, and the late rain comes quickly, and the pedestrians are gone, and the wild boat is crossed. The contrast between movement and stillness further highlights the tranquility of Yedu.
"In the Huangmei season, it rains everywhere, and the grass and ponds are full of flowers." ("A Appointment" by Zhao Shixiu of the Song Dynasty) depicts the rainy days of Huangmei in the south of the Yangtze River, and frogs everywhere.
"The singing doves outside the forest are resting from the spring rain, and the apricot blossoms are blooming on the roof of the house in the early morning." (Song Dynasty, Ouyang Xiu's "Tian Family") The sound of doves in the distance is sweet, and the apricot blossoms nearby reflect the sun and the movement. The sound and color complement each other, showing the bright spring scene after the rain in the farmhouses in the south of the Yangtze River.
"The soil is about to stir and the rains are frequent, and thousands of grasses and flowers bloom." (Fan Chengda, Song Dynasty, "Four". The spring breeze and spring rain moisten the earth, the grass and trees sprout, and the flowers bloom, weaving a vibrant spring scene.
“Black clouds cover the mountains, and white raindrops jump into the boat. "(Song Dynasty? Su Shi's "Five Wonders of Drunken Books at Wanghu Tower on June 27th") It writes that the dark clouds are rolling like ink, and the summer rain clouds have not had time to cover the mountains, but the raindrops like beating pearls are also hitting the sky. The ground hit the cabin.
"The wind is like a mountain, and the rain is like a river pouring down." (Song Dynasty Lu You's "Composition in the Storm") describes the situation of violent wind and rain.
“The thunder is falling from thousands of mountains, and the rain is coming from thousands of peaks.” (Ming Dynasty Li Panlong’s "Guangyang Mountain Road") The thunder roars, like the collapse of thousands of peaks; the heavy rain pours, and the smoke and clouds billow, like Tens of thousands of peaks rush towards you, creating the momentum of a thunderstorm.
“As soon as a wild goose flutters into the sky, thousands of mountains float and the rain comes.” (Qing Dynasty, Cha Shenxing’s “Deng Bao Wu Tower”) The first sentence says that when a heavy rain comes, the wild geese fly to avoid the rain; The sentence writes that the rainstorm is coming quickly and violently, and the mountains seem to be floating in the rain.
In addition, there are many poems that use the rain to express emotions. For example: "The wind and rain are like darkness, and the roosters are crowing." ("Poetry? Zheng Feng? Wind and Rain") was originally written to describe the scene of wind and rain, dark sky, and roosters crowing. Now it is used to refer to political gloom and people's desire for a clear and clear society. status.
“The autumn wind is thousands of miles away from the land of hibiscus, and the dusk rain brings thousands of families to Xili Village.” (Tan Yongzhi of the Tang Dynasty, "Autumn Stay in the Xiangjiang River and Encountering the Rain") On the banks of the long Xiangjiang River, the autumn wind blows strongly, and the lotus flowers bloom, and the scenery is quite beautiful. However, thousands of villages and households are covered with wild vines all over the walls, shrouded in the heavy dusk rain, and they are desolate. The two sentences are opposite, and the beautiful scenery further reflects the hardship and haggardness of the people.
"You asked about the return date, but the night rain in Bashan swelled the autumn pond. Why should I cut the candles on the west window and say that it rained in Bashan at night." (Tang Dynasty? Li Shangyin's "Night Rain Sends to the North") Poet Looking at the continuous autumn rain outside the window, I can't help but feel my mind racing, imagining that after returning home, I would cut candles with my wife under the west window and talk at night, telling them about my lovesickness that I couldn't sleep at night during the rainy night in Bashan.
"The mountains and rivers are shattered like catkins blown by the wind, and the dust and rain of life are scattered." (Southern Song Dynasty? Wen Tianxiang's "Crossing the Lingding Ocean") Yuan soldiers invaded the Song Dynasty, and the country suffered. The mountains and rivers were shattered like catkins blown by the wind, and personal wealth and life Like rain hitting duckweed, there is always the danger of sinking.
“Begonia does not hesitate to be rouge, independent in the drizzle.” (Song Dynasty, Chen Yuyi’s "Cold in Spring") The sea flower that stands proudly and independently in the drizzle embodies the author’s uncompromising spirit with the violent forces. .
“The clouds in the stream have just begun to rise, and the sun is sinking into the tower, and the mountain rain is about to come, and the wind is filling the tower.” (Xu Hun of the Tang Dynasty, "Xianyang City East Tower") truly wrote about the stormy storm in the tower before the mountain rain comes. The scene later refers to the tense atmosphere before a major event is about to occur.
“Listen to the spring rain in the small building all night, and sell apricot flowers in the deep alleys in the Ming Dynasty.” (Song Dynasty Lu You’s "The First Spring Rain in Lin'an") Living in the small building on a spring night, listening to the sound of wind and rain all night, I thought The apricot blossoms are blooming in the rain, and the rain is coming in the morning. The sound of selling apricot blossoms can be heard, and I can't help but feel cheerful.
“When the spring rain breaks the bridge and people are not able to cross it, the boat pushes out of the willow shade.” (Song Xu Fu’s "Spring Tour on the Lake") When you go to the lake in the middle of the spring rain, the bridge is broken and blocked, how sad it is; suddenly, the willow shade It was a pleasant surprise to get off the boat and come here! There are no words, but the emotions are subtly expressed in the tortuous and detailed descriptions.
"My feelings in Beijing have changed over the years, and I suddenly remembered the south of the Yangtze River when I heard the spring rain." ("Listening to the Rain" collected by Yuan Dynasty in Yuan Dynasty) The poet has lived in the capital for many years and no longer has the strong attachment to his hometown as he did then. Missing, but the feeling of homesickness has always been lingering in my heart. The pattering spring rain couldn't help but evoke the author's longing for the spring scenery in the south of the Yangtze River.
Beautiful sentences and paragraphs about rain
Rain is the most common, lasting for three or two days at a time. But don't be upset, look, it's like cow hair, like flower needles, like fine threads, densely woven diagonally, and there's a thin layer of smoke covering the roof of the house. The leaves are so green that it shines, and the grass is so green that it irritates your eyes. In the evening, the lights were turned on, and a little yellow light created a quiet and peaceful night. In the countryside, on small roads and beside stone bridges, there are people holding umbrellas and walking slowly; there are also farmers working in the fields, wearing straw hats and hats. Their houses, sparse and sparse, stood silently in the rain. ---Zhu Ziqing's "Spring" 2.
Follow me and step on the soil of the fields, and the soil will be as moist as ointment
Go to the pastures and you will sprout new honeysuckle seedlings
Go around the pond and say hello to the jumping fish
Listen to the stream and practice the newly composed laundry rhyme
3. The clouds haven’t covered the sky yet, and the ground has already It was very dark, as if the extremely bright and extremely hot sunny afternoon had suddenly turned into darkness. The wind carried the rain stars, as if they were searching for something on the ground, bumping around here and there. There was a red flash in the distance to the north, as if a black cloud had been lifted away, revealing a large area of ??blood. The wind has calmed down, but it is blowing sharply and makes people shiver. After a gust of wind like this passed by, everything seemed to be different for some reason. Even the willow trees were waiting for something in confusion. Another flash, right above the head, bright white raindrops fell immediately, extremely hard, kicking up a lot of dust, and the soil was slightly filled with rain. Several heavy raindrops hit Xiangzi's back, and he shivered twice. The raindrops stopped and dark clouds spread across the sky. Another gust of wind came, stronger than the previous one. Willow branches flew horizontally, dust moved in all directions, and raindrops fell; wind, soil, and rain were mixed together and joined together. Horizontally and vertically, everything was gray and cold. They are all wrapped up in it, and it is difficult to tell which is the tree, which is the ground, which is the cloud; all directions are chaotic, noisy, and confused. The wind passed, leaving only straight rain channels, drooping down like crazy. It was hard to see the individual lines, but just one piece and one burst. Countless arrows shot up from the ground, and thousands of waterfalls fell from the houses. Within a few minutes, the sky and the earth were inseparable. The river in the sky fell down, and the river on the ground flowed across it, turning into a world of water, dark and yellow, sometimes bright and white.
——Lao She's "Under the Scorching Sun and Heavy Rain" 5. Ancient Poems in the Rain
1. The spring rain broke the bridge but no one could cross it, and the small boat pushed out of the willow shade. ——"Spring Tour on the Lake" by Xu Fu of the Song Dynasty
2. The spring tide brings rain in the evening, and there is no boat crossing the wild river. ——Tang Wei Yingwu's "Chuzhou West Stream" 3. Black clouds rolled over the mountains without covering the mountains, and white raindrops jumped into the boat. ——Song Dynasty. Su Shi's "Drunken Book at Wanghu Tower on the Twenty-Seventh Day of the First Month"
Reading Ancient Poems on a Rainy Day Rainy days are the best days to read ancient poems. With half an acre of square pond open and the rain curtains drawn, a classical atmosphere fills the air. There is no need for the leisure and comfort of green benches, and the bustling and lively atmosphere of birds and flowers is no longer needed. Only the continuous rain can nourish the hungry and thirsty heart. Stay away from the crowds of the world, get rid of the word "tired", and go into your own Sanwei bookstore alone, letting your tired eyes rest between the lines of ancient poems. So there are tears of lovesickness, bit by bit, that wet the plantains; there is hometown love, misty, clinging to the streets; there is the rhyme of silk and bamboo, dripping dripping, sprinkled on the post road; then there are guesthouses with willow color, streams with frogs croaking; There are Xinghua Village with wine flag style, Bashan Night with Western Window Candles; there are water villages, mountains, mountains, sky, streets, emperors, wild paths, dark clouds, and bright lights of river boats; there are shepherd boys’ piccolos, fishermen’s bamboo hats, the green Wei of the front mountain, and the terraces of the Southern Dynasty; Peonies with spring tears, roses lying on dawn branches, carps on the beach at night, and painted boats tied with weeping poplars; so old Du chanted at spring night, and young Du asked for directions at Qingming; Lu Fangweng lay down to listen to the night, and monk Zhinan walked across the east of the bridge with his stick. ; Layman Yi An lamented the green, fat, red and thin, the owner of Chengzhai admired the lotus heart with pearls; Zhang Zhihe went boating and fishing without returning, Su Dongpo put on light makeup and heavy makeup to imitate the West Lake; So there are always too many, so he brought a line of talents with each leading the way. People are like swallows flying in the wet atmosphere...
Oh, reading ancient poems on a rainy day can be refreshing and refreshing, and it can be read in a trance; it can be read easily and deeply. Heavy; reading makes me happy, reading makes me sad. When reading ancient poems on a rainy day, read yourself into a poem in the rain, floating on the suburban plain where "the grass looks far away but there is no grass close by", with pattering on the ground...
6. Stop and watch the rain
Watching the Storm from a High Building/Wu Dani The weather was so hot and irritating that when I walked to the balcony, I was still out of breath. For a moment, the bright white world outside suddenly became gloomy, and the darkness quickly pressed toward the earth. The wind picked up, and the wind brought raindrops, hitting them here and there. At this time, the birds on the trees were frightened and flew wildly, and the pedestrians downstairs were looking for their way back as if they were avoiding the plague. It's too late, but it's faster. Before the people in the high-rise building could fully react, raindrops fell from the sky like a million troops, and the torrential rain covered the sky! The rain is like a crazy beast, with a huge roar, venting desperately! The gentle wind that I usually feel on high-rise buildings suddenly changed its face and roared, sweeping towards the earth in conjunction with the heavy rain. The power lines kept swaying, the big trees danced wildly as if possessed, and the leaves were blown back to the sky. The treetops closest to the building repeatedly brushed against the wall, and the tree roots seemed to be struggling to break free from the ground... The rain was still pouring, and at a glance, the ground was not clear. Only the outlines of a few nearby high-rise buildings could be seen, and the water tower Only a blurry figure remained, and the road disappeared... The water was connected to the sky, and the sky was connected to the water. Suddenly, the chaotic black sky cracked open, revealing several irregular groups of lines. Incomparably strong light flashed out from the lines, accompanied by a deafening roar, cheering for the violent storm. The wind was violent, the rain was violent, the lightning was thundering, and the earth was shaking! Ten minutes passed, the thunder and lightning stopped, the wind calmed down a bit, and the vision became clear again. The "arrows from the sky" are still shooting towards the roof, and every tile forms a rushing "waterfall" rushing to the ground, combining with the wall of water rushing out of the drainage pipes of high-rise buildings and the water flowing under the big trees... So many There are so many "rivers", big and small, roaring forward, rushing endlessly, rushing towards the flat and wide roads, towards the big rivers. For a time, there is insufficient drainage, and large or small "flat lakes" are formed, and the light can tell people. The wind slowly stopped, the rain slowly stopped, but the big trees still stood tall; the buildings were "swept", and the water vapor was steaming. The roofs of the short houses were washed new by the rain, and they were full of water. A whole new world!
Appreciation of Prose
Random Thoughts on Rain Wang Guozhen Sometimes, it is raining outside but the heart is sunny; sometimes, it is sunny outside but it is raining inside. There are many things in the world that you can taste in contrast. When the heart is clear, the rain is also sunny; when the heart is rainy, the sunshine is also rain.
However, no matter what kind of story, it will be unforgettable when it rains. Rain has a kind of magic: it can diffuse into a mood, soak into an atmosphere, and carve into a memory. Of course, sometimes it can turn into a disaster.
The wind and sand in spring, the dullness in summer, and the dryness in autumn all make people look forward to rain. A rain can also make the air much fresher and the streets much brighter. "Spring rain is as precious as oil." Farmers are not the only ones who have the desire for rain.
When it rains, there is neither sun nor moon, but many people don’t think so. Maybe the weather is not cold during the rainy season, so it would be better to let the sun cool down for a while. A rainy night has a different charm that a moonlit night doesn't have. Sometimes people can't help but think of Li Shangyin's famous saying "Why should I cut off the candles on the west window, but talk about the rainy night in Bashan".
Walking in the light rain is a rare pleasure. Listening to the rustling sound of the rain gently hitting the broad leaves of the poplar or sycamore tree, the beauty that nourishes the heart, even if it is Richard Clayderman's "Autumn Whispers" flowing under the piano "The elegant melody is also difficult to compare. The miraculous creation of nature is truly unparalleled.
The scene of a pair of lovers walking in an alley is extremely ordinary. But on a rainy day, there is a small light blue umbrella in my hand and a beige windbreaker on my body, and the effect is completely different. At first glance, Youth in the Rain is a readable picture.
In the north, there are not many rainy days among the 365 days a year. So if there is rain like poetry or poetry like rain one day, I will feel curious.
Seven: Expressing My Feelings
Listen to the Cold Rain
Yu Guangzhong
As soon as the Waking of Insects is over, the spring cold intensifies. First the weather is steep, and then the rainy season begins, sometimes drenching, sometimes pattering, the sky is damp and the ground is so wet that even in a dream, it seems like I am holding an umbrella. And even with an umbrella, you can escape a burst of cold rain, but you can't escape the entire rainy season. Even the thoughts are moist. Going home every day, I zigzag through the labyrinth of alleys from Kinmen Street to Xiamen Street. Walking into the rainy and windy weather makes me even more imaginative. Thinking about Taipei looking so miserable is like a black and white film. Thinking about the entire history of China is nothing more than a black and white film. It rained like this from the beginning to the end of the film. I wonder if this feeling comes from Antonioni. But that piece of land has been missing for a long time. Twenty-five years and a quarter of a century, even if it rains, it is separated by thousands of mountains and rivers and thousands of umbrellas. Twenty-five years later, everything has been disconnected. Only the climate and meteorological reports are still involved. A big cold current rolled in from that land, and I shared this coldness with the ancient continent. You can't throw yourself into her arms. Being swept by the hem of her skirt can be regarded as comforting your admiration.
When I think about it this way, I actually feel a little warm in the severe cold. When thinking this way, he hoped that these long and narrow alleys could extend forever, and his thoughts could also be extended, not from Kinmen Street to Xiamen Street, but from Kinmen to Xiamen. He is from Xiamen, at least from Xiamen in the broadest sense. For the past twenty years, he has not lived in Xiamen, but has lived in Xiamen Street, which can be considered a mockery or a comfort. But when it comes to broad sense, he is also from Jiangnan, Changzhou, Nanjing, Sichuan baby, and Wuling boy. Apricot blossoms and spring rain in the south of the Yangtze River, that was his boyhood. In half a month it will be Qingming Festival. Antonioni's camera pans back and forth. It's like the remaining water in the mountains. The emperor, the queen, and the earth are like this. People from the north to the south of Guizhou are like this. Is that China? Of course, it is still China, and it will always be China. It’s just that the spring rain of apricot blossoms is no longer there, the shepherd boy’s distant fingers are no more, and the drizzle at Jianmen is no more and the light dust in Weicheng is no more. But where is the land that he thinks about day and night?
In the front page headline of the newspaper? Or is it the rumors in Hong Kong? Or Fu Cong’s black and white keys or Ma Sicong’s jumping bow plucking? Or is it Antonioni's vision of the end of the mirror? Or, on the walls and glass cabinets of the Palace Museum, the rhythm of Taibai and Dongpo in the sound of gongs and drums of Peking Opera?
Almond blossom. Spring rain. Jiangnan. Six square characters, maybe the piece of soil is inside. No matter whether Chixian, China or China, changes come and go, as long as Cangjie’s inspiration never dies and the beautiful Chinese language never gets old, the image and the magnet-like centripetal force will definitely remain. Because a square character is a world. There are words in the beginning, so the hearts of the Han people, the memories and hopes of their ancestors have sustenance. For example, if you write the word "rain" out of thin air, bit by bit, drizzle, patter, patter, all the clouds and rain will appear in it.
How can anything satisfy this kind of visual beauty? When you open a book called "Ci Yuan" or "Ci Hai", metal, wood, water, fire, and earth each form a world. As soon as you enter the "Rain" part, you can see the ever-changing sky of ancient China, including beautiful frost, snow, clouds, and terrifying clouds. Thunder, lightning, and hail all reveal God’s good and bad tempers. The weather station is full of encyclopedias that laymen can’t understand.
Listen to the cold rain. Look at that cold rain. Sniff, smell, that cold rain, lick, that cold rain. The rain is on his umbrella, on the umbrellas of millions of people in this city, on raincoats, on houses, and on antennas. It rains in Keelung Port, on the breakwater, and on the boats in the strait. It rains in Qingming this season. Yu is a woman and should be the most emotional. The rain is misty and psychedelic. If you smell it carefully, it is refreshing and refreshing, with a little mint fragrance. When it is strong, it actually emits a faint earthy smell that is unique to grass and trees. Maybe it is the smell of earthworms and snails. After all, it is the awakening of stings. Maybe there is life above and below the ground, maybe the layers of memories in ancient China. They are all stupid and crawling, maybe it is the subconsciousness and dreams of plants, that fishy smell.
I went to the United States for the third time and lived in the high mountains of Denver for two years. The western United States is mountainous, desert-ridden, and arid. The sky is as blue as the eyes of Anglo-Saxons; the ground is as red as the skin of Indians; the clouds are like rare white birds. There are few clouds and fog on the dazzling snow-capped peaks of the Rocky Mountains. One is high, the other is dry, and the third is above the forest line, where cedars and cypresses also stop. In Chinese poetry, "strata clouds grow in the chest", or "shanglue rains at dusk", which is a rare sight in the Rocky Mountains. The victory of the Rocky Mountains lies in rocks and snow. Those strange rocks and rocks, stacked on top of each other, create a thrilling sculpture exhibition for the sun and the thousands of miles of wind to see. The snow was so white that it was illusory, so cold that it was clear and sober. The overwhelming momentum of the snow made it difficult to breathe, and made people feel cold and sore. However, to appreciate the realm of "the white clouds turn back and look together, and the blue mist enters to see nothingness", you still have to go back to China. The humidity in Taiwan is very high, and the most beautiful atmosphere is the misty clouds and rain. I stayed at Xitou twice at night, where the fragrance of the trees was refreshing, and the cold night hit my elbows. I slept like an immortal with the moist green mountain shadows on my pillow and the calmness of all the sounds. It rained all night in the mountains, and when I woke up the next morning, in the primitive silence before the rising sun, against the cold air of the previous night, I walked through the broken branches on the ground and the thin streams of rainwater still flowing, and explored the secrets of the forest. Winding and winding, we walked up the mountain. On the mountain in Xitou, there are dense trees and thick fog. The rich water vapor rises slowly from the bottom of the valley, sometimes thick and sometimes thin. It is almost impossible to get a full view of the peaks and half ravines. I went into the mountains at least twice, and could only play hide-and-seek with the Xitou peaks in the vast whiteness. When I returned to Taipei, when people asked me about it, apart from laughing and not answering, pretending to be mysterious, my actual impression was nothing more than a smile. The mountain is just between nothingness. The Chinese landscape with shrouded clouds and misty mountains, hidden mountains and vast rivers, gives people the charm of Song Dynasty paintings. That world may belong to the Zhao family, but the mountains and rivers belong to the Mi family. And in the end, it was Mi and his son who painted Chinese landscapes on paper, or whether Chinese landscapes on paper resembled Song Dynasty paintings. I'm afraid no one can tell clearly, right?
The rain can not only be smelled, seen, but also heard. Listen to the cold rain. Listening to the rain, as long as it is not an earth-shattering typhoon storm, is always a beautiful feeling in terms of hearing. In autumn on the mainland, whether it is sparse raindrops on the sycamore trees, or showers hitting the lotus leaves, it always sounds a bit desolate, desolate, and miserable. Looking back on it now on the island, in addition to the sadness, there is a layer of sadness and confusion. No matter how heroic and heroic you are, I'm afraid you won't be able to withstand repeated wind and rain. A dozen young men listened to the rain and were drowsy with red candles. Two dozen middle-aged people listened to the rain. In the guest boat, the river was broad and the clouds were low. Three dozen white-headed men listened to the rain under the monk's hut. This is the pain of the death of the Song Dynasty, the life of a sensitive soul, upstairs, on the river, in the temple, strung with cold rain beads. Ten years ago, he lost himself in a heartbreaking ghost rain. Rain should be a drop of wet soul, calling someone outside the window.
The rain hits the trees and tiles, and the rhythm is clear and audible. Especially the clang clanging on the roof tiles, that ancient music belongs to China. Wang Yu was in Huanggang, where big bamboos as broken as rafters were used as roof tiles. It is said that when one lives on top of a bamboo building, the sound of heavy rain is like a waterfall, and the sound of dense snow is like broken jade. Regardless of whether it is playing drums, chanting poems, playing chess, throwing pots, or singing, the effect is particularly good. Isn't it like living in a bamboo tube? Any small and crisp sounds will be exaggerated and make people's ears allergic.
On a rainy day, the roof tiles are floating with wet light, gray and gentle, slightly bright when facing the light, and dim when the backlight is on. It is a kind of low-consciousness comfort to the vision.
As for the rain hitting the tiles with thousands of petals, from far to near, gently, heavily, gently, there are streams of water flowing down along the tile grooves and eaves, and various percussion sounds and glide sounds are densely woven together. Net, whose fingers are massaging the helix. "It's raining." The gentle gray beauty came, and her icy delicate hands were fingering countless black and gray keys on the roof, turning noon into dusk.
In the ancient continent, thousands of houses were like this. When I first came to this island more than 20 years ago, the Japanese-style tile houses were also like this. First, the sky darkened, and the city seemed to be covered in a huge piece of frosted glass, with the shadows extending and deepening indoors. Then the cool water filled the space, the wind swirled from every corner, and I could feel the heavy breathing on every roof covered with gray clouds. The rain has come, and the lightest percussion music beats the city. The vast rooftops, far and near, are struck one by one. The ancient piano, with its fine and dense rhythm, has a softness and kindness in the monotony, every drop. Bit by bit, it seems like illusion and reality, just like when a child was in the cradle, a familiar nursery rhyme rocked him to sleep, and his mother moaned in nasal and guttural sounds. Or in the water town of Zeguo in the south of the Yangtze River, a large basket of green mulberry leaves was chewed by thousands of silkworms, chewing the tiny bits and pieces with their mouthparts. The rain is coming. When the rain comes, the tiles say this. One tile says it, one thousand tiles say it. Play it softly, play it heavily, knock it slowly, and beat it intermittently for a rainy season. The improvisation starts from From the awakening of insects to the Qingming Festival, elegy is played coldly on the scattered graves, and hundreds of billions of tiles sing.
Listen to the rain in the old Japanese house, listen to April, the continuous yellow mold rain, day and night, the ten months stretch, the wet and sticky moss invades from the stone steps to the bottom of his tongue , bottom of my heart. In July, I listened to the typhoon playing blindly on the ancient house all night. The heat wave at the bottom of Qianxun was carried by the strong wind, overturned the entire Pacific Ocean, only to press heavily on its low eaves, and the entire sea was on its volute. There was a rush of diarrhea. Otherwise, it is a thunderstorm night, and the drums are heard playing loudly in the white smoke-like gauze tent, the torrential rain is pouring down, the powerful electric pipa is frightening, and the shaking of the roof tiles is about to stir up panic. Otherwise, the sloping northwest rain brushes on the window glass, whips on the wall and hits the large banana leaves. A burst of spring rain passes by, and the autumn mood fills the Japanese courtyard.
Listen to the rain in the Japanese-style ancient house, the continuous spring rain, the autumn rain, the middle age from youth, and the cold rain. Rain is a kind of monotonous and durable music, whether it is indoor music or outdoor music. Listen indoors, listen outdoors, cold, that music. Rain is a kind of music of memories. Listen to the cold rain and recall the rain in the south of the Yangtze River. It fell all over the rivers and lakes. It fell on bridges and boats. It also fell in Sichuan in the rice fields and frog ponds. It fertilized the wet cloth valleys under the Jialing River. The cry. The rain is the cold rain licking the longing lips under the moist music.
Because rain is the most primitive percussion music that starts from the other side of memory. The tile is the most subdued musical instrument. Its gray gentleness covers those who listen to the rain. The tile is the umbrella of music. But soon the era of apartments came. Why did you suddenly grow taller in Taipei? The music of the watts became silent. Thousands of tiles are fluttering, and beautiful gray butterflies fly away one after another, flying into the memory of history. Now the rain is falling, falling on the cement roof and walls, a rainy season without music. The trees have also been cut down, and the laurel