Summer night, listen to the rain

In mid-summer in June, a rain lingering in the night, the heat wave slowly converged, the night annihilated the hustle and bustle, lights and wine in the misty rain like a ghostly shadow, not to provoke the smoke pavilion willow wind, not to touch Yunqiao drunk, leaning against the window, quietly listening to the rain.

Plum rainy season, misty rain hazy line of sight, far away from the mountains, so that my call can not reach your city. Count the raindrops alone, drop by drop against the bluestone under the eaves, the broken spray, such as my dream, shattered the ground.

Lonely people, let my footsteps walk through your thoughts, in the dripping rain of this season on the ridge, let the dream be green again. The root-rooted autumn seedlings drank enough water. Waiting for a wind to blow out pods and yellow stamens of Zizania caduciflora and rice millet flowers, you will come and harvest an autumn sun, making my yard full of gold.

Tick, tick According to the melody of holding the heartbeat, close my eyes to feel the raindrops flying through the window lattice to touch the cheek, cool, just in time with my flushed face hot, low eyebrow, pick up an old story, slowly taste.

If I can't listen to the rain so quietly for a long time, I may be hindered by the trivia of the world of mortals. Maybe the noise drowns the pleasure of the rain. Maybe I haven't had such a lonely luxury for a long time. I just don't want to hear it. I'm afraid of this. I bring myself into the whirlpool of yearning and can no longer turn out of the emotional circle.

You are gone, regardless of whether the 30-year-old house can still withstand the wind and rain, regardless of the red apricot in front of the house has blossomed for 30 years only for you. A wall across the world fence, all affectionate money, are just thrown to a scam. The heart is raining, listen, the flow of painstaking efforts, is a memorial to that once wholeheartedly.

The lilac at the entrance of the alley did not bloom this year, and the girl like clove never came back. I was looking for the shadow of the umbrella in a rain. I was fascinated by a drop of rain and rubbed the makeup, showing the plain and pure middle-aged. Thirty years ago green and ignorant, lively and naughty, all gave you. The shyness of youth and the stillness of middle age retain a person's story, while you are already someone else's story.

I no longer bother to find you, the soul that ran away can not bring back the old site, and the harmonious melody of the piano will only be listened to in a dream in the dead of night. Now, lean on an idle window, run aground all thoughts, just quietly listen to the rain.

Rain outside the window, tick-tock, tick-tock, wet a clump of roses, in the night can not see how many of its scattered; rain in the heart, tick-tock, tick-tock, the mood crushed into the rain, night, you can not see the rain flowers broken as glass; rain in the palms, along the veins of palms, flow into staggered traces, you never understand, the depth of emotional lines, have tolerated how many grievances Rain in the lips, astringent taste, like my tears, hope is tears of joy, do not make a cavity affectionate, wasted in a rainy season.

On a rainy night in midsummer, I was listening to the rain. How about you?

/ the beginning of the misty rain