The August rain doesn't know whether it should be ostentatious or subtle, so he comes down thinking like this. If you want to know what it wants to tell, listen with your heart: I don't have the bravado of summer rain, nor do I have the femininity of fall rain. This unseasonal season has also shaped my unseasonal character. Sometimes I am cheerful, little by little beat the green keys, play a beautiful music, perhaps in the eyes of the people a little messy, only with the heart to listen to the beauty of his experience.
Sometimes I will play some small temperament, hard to fall on people, making them laugh and cry, do not know whether to accept me or reject. Sometimes I am melancholy, not kidding fall on the ground, quietly thinking about the end of that love on earth is happy or sad. The splash reads my mind. He said, "Everyone has a long-cherished destiny that belongs to him or her, and it is impossible to change it." Right! There is no need to think about it.
Perhaps I am mysterious, free to shuttle in the vast world, sometimes hidden flickering sound to leave people infinite reverie, enjoy the conception of my mystery. I am not as precious as the spring rain; not as flamboyant as the summer rain; not as gentle as the fall rain; not as naive as the winter rain. I am what I am, the unfathomable rain of August."
Listening to the rain, I thought y. Everyone has his or her own long-standing destiny, and everyone should be true to himself or herself. Blindly pursuing the so-called perfect; imitating the so-called perfect; and finally throwing away the original self. Pathetic! Pathetic! How difficult it is to find oneself! Be your true self - the most beautiful. The August rain has a personality, so I also have a personality! What about you?
August rain prose 2These days the rain along the coast of Fujian off and on, like the Yangtze River Basin rain, every one or two days, every one or two hours to rain, the ground surface has not been completely dry, naturally, for the traditional tea farmers to rely on the sky to eat is fatal, because it is not easy for the sky to clear up and then go to the tea picking has been too late, the tea green is too old to do out of the tea is always not sold at a good price, and the tea is not good. The price is too high. Our family has been idle for a number of days, especially me, are almost bored out of their minds, because the exercise diet plan drawn up before the vacation can not be implemented.
I put down my book and walked out of my room to the eaves outside the front door.
This year's rainfall is very sufficient, especially concentrated in early August, I saw a group of tender yellow ducklings in the narrow shallow drainage ditch play, completely ignoring the rain, like the love of the water children, think about it is no wonder, ducks like water by nature. Drainage ditch on the right side of a small wall, the surface of the wall is not on the concrete, so the bricks and bricks with moss between the long patches of moss, these green plants and the blood-red bricks form a stark contrast, but there is no sense of contradiction. At the same time I look at, the rain still keep on falling, dirt road side of the unknown grass by the rain beat, from time to time drooping head, but always tenacious want to stand up, a small house in the yard with a concrete slab covered with a few sets of tea machinery, a few outdated machines have been shelved rust, but also covered with thick dust, dim chandelier raindrops are hitting the seven or eight concrete slabs, the sound is very loud and rhythmic, the sound is very loud and rhythmic. The sound was loud and rhythmic, making it seem as if someone was secretly playing a worldly instrument in the hut. Follow the direction of the path to the distance, there is a seven-story building standing in the left side of the path, the right side of the road and stands a small row of residential housing, thanks to not blocking the line of sight, because not far away there is a piece of bamboo along the banks of the river grows, that piece of bamboo by the wind and the rain knocking point of the rustling sound, and the surrounding all the sound **** with the composition of a section of nature's happy song. On the other side of the river is a tea mountain, looks bare, without half a tree, this is some years ago the results of unreasonable private land.
I used to love the rainy scene, and now I still do, when my eyes from the distance back to the time, I suddenly remembered something about the leaves. And the leaf first encounter that day is also raining, when I just finished the formalities of science to arts, is moving the tables and chairs into the new classroom, she is coincidentally holding a history textbook step out, then it is lunch time, the classroom is no one else, I met her and her in front of the door, when we met, we looked at each other, I stayed for a few seconds, eyeballing her, love at first sight, she seems to have a touch of good feelings about me, blushing and lowering her head. and wiped her shoulders with me. I froze in the doorway for a while, shook off my head, walked into the classroom, found a seat in the first row by the door, and began to organize the books in the desk.
Over the next few days I was greeted by my new classmates, who were close to celebrating by lifting me up and throwing me in the air, and there were several moments when I wondered what they'd do to me if I lost my reputation, and I had a vague feeling that it would happen, but I didn't realize that it would come true. For them to show me friendly, I am a little fluttery, also think this is a matter of course, so that more and more arrogant and self-reliant up, everything with people to fight, including learning, even a ball with people really, in addition to people are also a little stingy stingy, don't like to lend people things, don't like to help people, and even other people looking for me to borrow a little money I'm impatient almost every day to find him to ask for, and a good bragging, and like to brag about themselves, in addition to many other problems. I also like to brag, and like to show off their own, in addition to many other problems, in short, my interpersonal relationship is really not ideal, but I did not find others on my dissatisfaction. I later thought, in addition to the leaves, other people at that time, I guess all have a heart of dissatisfaction with me, just did not openly show, or wait until later to explode. While interacting with my classmates in an unsatisfyingly bad way, I kept an eye on Ye Ci, and could even skip a class without listening, just looking straight at her, and she seemed to notice that I was looking at her, and lowered her head shyly on several occasions. I have been concerned about her, but also seems to get a little response, but in fact, or unrequited love, because I never dare to show her heart, until graduation I also only face to face with her to say a word.
Probably after the first monthly examination of the senior year, the next class began to circulate a saying and quickly spread, they said the principal blocked the way of all students attempting to transfer, did not agree to other people to transfer 's request, but only to me to open a green channel, so that I transferred, they said that it was because I said to the principal that the first time is my father forced me to choose science, does not mean that my will, so almost the whole school spat on me. The whole school spat on me, saying that I would do anything to change subjects, saying that I will not read science will not read, but also refused to admit it, insisting that it is his father's fault. Through this incident, the same class was originally dissatisfied with my classmates have found a handle, every time after class are in the side cursing me, insulting me, and even sometimes in class is not an exception, even when I go to the toilet on the way to call me chaff, I have become a complete street rat, everyone shouted at me. Therefore, I once had a mental breakdown, learning not into the book, and finally could not stand it on the suspension of six months, of course, this is only a temporary shelter, come back to let the righteous good people spit, pour dirty water, poke the spine.
Just when I was defeated, leaves or on me as always, four eyes relative to each other will still be shy red face, never said anything bad about me, but also tirelessly to hate me to explain my so-called wrong. I love this girl from the bottom of my heart, but I don't want her to follow me into the mud, even if I have been able to drum up the courage to confess to her.
After not long on the graduation, I put all my efforts to get into a second university in Henan, she went to Jilin to read the kindergarten education, I and she is no longer in contact, although there is still each other's contact information, but the words have not known where to start, we have their own object, only a little bit of the feeling of the remaining empty at any time to fade away.
The rain is still falling, I have stepped into the room, took the door by hand, sat down in front of the desk, spread out the paper, with a pen to write a few words: August rain, whispering in the ear, a thousand things, just the past.
August Rain Prose 3Ever since I was a child, I have been a lover of rain. There is a saying that goes, "Everyone who loves rain is an angel."
August, the season of sorrow.
August rain, sometimes hard rain, like to smash the whole world, heavily scattered on earth; sometimes pattering, like a girl's crying, sad the whole century. Good wind, messy hair, good rain, messy heart. So, let the mercurial rain wet the heart of the dust xi, unexplained sadness, in the slightly cool autumn wind more and more rampant." Rain stained flowers fall, red scattered fragrance", how poignant, how sad na! This night's rain, pattering, but also seems to be a little bit of a drop are so clear, seeped into the heart. How many people will be like me, in this rain splashed out of the memory of lost, can not find the direction?
August rain, so has been down, has been down, have been busy, tireless, under the human heart are tired. Rain like a line, cut the line, like those who can not sort out the sadness. What should I think about to be less sad, so I want to find a reason to live a happier life. But why? Those most beautiful scenery is always the fastest, everything has not had time, has become the past, overlapping, written into countless memories. Those memories that can't be forgotten, but can't be recalled, always make people still think that they can go back to the past. So, we stand still and wait, waiting for the most beautiful scenery once ...... Unbeknownst to us, it's already far, far away ......
August rain, so pale, but still so beautiful, disoriented as if the painting circle. How moving rain ah! It is like who is tenderly murmuring! In a distant fairy tale, we look at an arranged ending, a perfect ending ...... For a long, long time, I have been thinking: if all fairy tales can be played into reality, it would be so nice! Why is there so much less chance and yet so much more sorrow in reality? A lot of wish so close, but can not and; so far, but like in front of ......
So, everyone is constantly looking for the fulcrum of their life, the next station, and the next station ......
August Rain Prose 4It has always been the August rain that has impressed me the most, not just because August is a rainy season, but it is often the most lingering.
After work dragged the tired body and mind, walking alone on the road back to school, bustling crowds, neon world more difficult to make their own, I smoked in the hands of the rest of the half cigarette, the heart of the wound and in the hidden pain, so a person shuttles in the arena of love and hate, let the thought of the sky and the sky.
It seems that those around the laughter, those happy breath, have nothing to do with me. The first thing I'd like to say is that I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to do this, but I'm sure I'm going to be able to do it, and I'm sure I'm going to be able to do it, and I'm sure I'm going to be able to do it. It felt like my heart was stranded in a puddle on the pavement, letting the crowd trample on it, and the bright red blood slowly seeped into the puddle, then turned red. I begged them with desperate eyes, tears have long blurred eyes, but no one cares.
I have forgotten those so-called happiness, no longer remember their names, and even forgotten their taste. Treading on the puddles after the rain, feel so lonely, perhaps the more lonely some, the more you can let yourself see those so-called timeless vows, in the end, whose heart was once torn to pieces by the happiness, but also who to who put the word of love to say non-stop, we do not blame the fate of more forever, only that they have forgotten to do the term to his eternity.
I admit that I am too slow, not in the moment of the happiness of the drop, firmly grasp the pieces of happiness, and finally can only kiss had left those promises. A person on the edge of loneliness piecing together those fragments of happiness.
You are like the sand in my hands, slowly leaking from the hand cracks, I really should hold you in the palm of your hand, stick you in the bosom, if that I will not lose the most favorite one you!
August rain washed away my loneliness, how can I let you into my life, his company you will have the slightest loneliness?
August rain erodes my thoughts, what kind of mind should I use to write down my love, to whom will I give my love paper?
August rain drops fell on my clothes, but the cold penetrated my heart, what should I use to warm their own trembling body, what should I use to bond the once broken heart?
Just let this August rain, take away my loneliness, find the soul of the trust, my thoughts with the rain drifting down it ......
August rain prose 5August rain softly wet years of eyes, a lonely poet, two crazy young women wandering in the street, which reminds people of the sky that leisurely Paper Kite. By midday, ladybugs like cabs from one end of the town into the snack bar; a pot of rice noodles, on the topic of life, romantic cozy an hour ah ......
The rain is still falling, raindrops on the water knocking bright Lotus shadows, will be the boat away from the shore of the noisy people, moored in the center of the lake stranded, listen to the fragrance of the flowers, see the birds chirping with the raindrops, snuggle up with a little bit of the rain. Slip down the birdsong, snuggle away from the quiet of the world; unload the busy life, unload the crazy years, the heart will gently take off. The boat will be placed in the waterfall turbulence, jade beads splashed under the white practice, screams accompanied by immersion in the heart of the surprise and pleasure as if in a moment knocked out all the troubles, old trivialities, which is not exactly the life we seek!
However, at that moment, we instinctively avoided, and after that, was remorse! "Why can't we frame this thrilling moment?" And then comes the leap of faith to find it; once, twice, three times all without the shock and heartbeat, the elation and hubris of the first experience. Then close your eyes, sing, tell a novel, read a poem, although the rain has cleared up, not many people are willing to come here, then sing to the soft dusk after the rain, tell us a leisurely mood.
August rain prose 6Time, in the long river of years slowly passing, the wind blew, the turn of the day in July has been like floating clouds floating away. In August, the sky began to shed tears, dripping on the windowsill, penetrating the season's miss. Summer. Rainy season. Missing. The sound of rain is the beating note of the season, moisturizing the coolness of this summer. August rain, like sadness, like peaceful, like miss. When the raindrops drop on the gardenia, when the raindrops knocked on the glass window, when the raindrops sprinkled in the boundless sky, it is you, let me miss more and more, along with the sound of the rain, spreading thoughts ......
Many years ago, August summer, has not been particularly hot, quiet night, cozy, serene. A light wind, a summer rain, wet this restful summer. Calm down, listening to the sound of the rain, feel different quiet, open the CD, the sound to moderate, soothing melody, enjoy a moment. Perhaps, only such a moment, can feel the peace of mind, thoughts are not disturbed, condensed, far-reaching.
Dear, you said you later like this rain, said because when it rains, you can hold you to sleep, visible, you also like this raindrops in the serenity, or more crisp, extraordinarily restful. Dear tonight my side is raining, your side? ......
Crisp, restful, the sound of rain, night, music ...... seems to have a lot more, and memory related, and you related, and I miss you related.
Familiar melody, seemingly the same text, but writing a different mood. Tick-tock rain, blooming in the air, condensing this season's miss, infinite spread. I know, can not stop this miss your heart, do not know whether you can also feel, I want you ......
Stranger number of years, inexhaustible sorrow, can not stay the time. The silent guard once upon a time, can't keep the years, can't break the thought of sadness miss. Another August, just many years after the August but only I am a person, a person memories, a person miss. I do not know now you are over there okay, really want to embrace you into your arms, really want to let you gently kiss my face, more miss you only belong to your flavor, would like to personally give you a blessing ah, but this miss can only be silently placed in my heart.
Dear may you always be happy, happy ...... I will always love you - incense (written on August 18, 20xx) (to 20xx years after today and then hit look at this article) sealed 40 years. A piece of memory, a treasured,
August Rain Prose 7Just set up the fall, there is a Xu wind soughing, took away the summer heat, the footsteps of the cool autumn rain followed closely. Autumn wind blew a pile of letters on the desk, autumn rain wet the girl's eyes in a piece of thoughts. This is a season of melancholy. The girl put a paper crane on her knees folded and flattened, flattened and folded, and then crumpled, thrown into the wind, rustling drift down to the ground, mottled, landing is the sound of autumn grudges and sorrows. The girl looked up the face of the delicate like lotus, a drop of tears, a face of pretty, jade beads, Tian Tian August rain, fall lonely girl heart.
Gently, the girl turned her gaze out the window, a sycamore tree that only this year bubbled over the dripping eaves, plump leaves in the wind and rain flopping in the dance. So, knocking down the eaves a piece of tiles, fell into the puddle, a crisp sound, broken.
That tiles, in the fall, the girl was nervous and fearful of the brow gaze, hand white wrist, gently cupped the panic of the heart, until, that a crisp sound came in, the window lattice on the shapely figure slightly a jolt, as if the tiles are not falling on the ground, but fell in her heart; as if the wind and rain note, not patted in the sycamore leaves, but sprinkled in the field of her heart. Oh, girl, are you afraid of the autumn wind blowing a tree's green leaves yellow? Are you afraid to hear the sound of dripping rain? Or is it the silky fall rain that reminds you of any past events?
The wind is the groan of love from heaven and earth, and the rain is the teardrop of pain from the clouds.
Winding brooks, field paths, forest frogs, and the pheasant's feathered wings, the calf's neck under the swaying bell, ...... a matter of a sigh, a matter of a fear of the eyebrow, sighing the clouds fall tears like rain. A river, a mountain, a desk, and, charming like the stars and moon's eyes, all sad rain, all thoughts.
Mountain stream path, yellow lattice umbrella, green skirt, white hand ......
The mountain pass, alfalfa blooming flowers, white, red, yellow, a brilliant ground. Sunflowers bend their sunken heads. On the branches, the finches a pair of biting the neck, singing a sad song, shaking off the rain messy, rain drops fell on the wild chrysanthemum petals, teardrop-like tumbling, crystal clear. The swallow patted the blue butterfly, gently smiled.
That mountain, sorghum red like a flame.
The girl runs a handful of long hair, looking back, the rainbow fell in the mountain stream, one end of the clear spring, one end of the girl's skirt side.
The smoke and haze rose from the sorghum field, the wind came to the smoke ripples, roaming over the fields, swept over the red and yellow apricot leaves, swept over the magpies new feather dress, streaming shadow light Qingquan, the long wind fog like a veil. The green smoke drove the old bull, tripped over the brook, Baer dog squinting, a long yawn, how it can not wake up?
After the rain, the wilderness, everything is so charming.
Lamentations when crying, far away when looking at the return.
The geese passed by without leaving a love letter.
August rain prose 8Time, in the long river of years slowly passing, the breeze gently blowing, in the twinkling of an eye the days of autumn, has been like floating clouds floating away.
Long-awaited heavy rain as expected, the majestic momentum of the unparalleled, sparse, crackling, winged angels fall into the dust, ethereal wandering in the haze. The small city of Quitun, baptized in the rain, Qui river drinking, a different world.
August rain, like sadness, like serenity, like miss. When the rain drops on the lotus, when the rain knocked on the glass window, when the rain sprinkled in the boundless sky, the rain in August, let me miss more and more, with the sound of the rain, spreading the deepest emotions of the most truly entwined.
Drifting rain, sometimes fine rain lingering silk, sometimes as dense as cattle hair and sometimes as dense as a basket, I used to sit in front of the window, gazing at the rain in the distance, the rain is so gentle, the trees, the flowers and plants, the houses, and hidden in the rain of those who are looking forward to.
Drifting rain, quietly listening, dreaming of the colors, is this season on earth in August full of autumn colors, how many flowers have fallen. Dripping eaves, moonlight sprinkled all over the lapel, remembering the sighs when the flowers fall. Quietly watch, choose to simply widowed recluse, a sentence, a poem, dots and dashes, fall into the heart, colorful dreams, floating in the wind, falling in the rain. The human August days, falling rainy season, drenched in sighs.
Drifting rain, a tree of flowers fall, together with the pattering rain, drop down the entanglement, fall into the heart. Yesterday's fireworks bloomed in the night sky, flashing scattered meteors, the flow of a thousand years of waiting, the beauty of the drifting rain, leaving countless earthly joy.
Drifting rain, I used to open the door of dusty memories, will be some of the things of the heart to fly, that once laughter, that once happy, in the rain at this time washed out some of the sadness. August rain, is the continuation of thoughts, lingering lingering in the heart lingering.
Drifting rain, the author is used to listening to the quiet heart, put themselves once and for all to examine, listen to the heart of the deepest language to speak to themselves ......
Drifting rain, the author likes to be alone a person quiet, like a fine rain such as the autumn quietly bloomed beautiful, occasionally in the time of the drifting rain, through the window and door glass alone. Look up at the sky outside the window, accompanied by a soothing melody and the sound of ticking rain, in such a mood, taste the life of the bits and pieces of ......
The sound of the drifting rain, the breeze is gentle, gently moving footsteps. The drizzle is very lingering, very lingering, the street in front of the sycamore, listen to the rain faintly pretentious. Doors and windows of the glass, is the echo of the raindrops, a long time, a long time, as that fine light.
The days of the rain, rain sprinkled on the ground, cool floating up ten thousand raindrops, vision gradually blurred, wind and rain smile, the past is not traceable.
However, in the rain fall, there are inexplicable thoughts, lingering, is something to put down, is some mood needs to be changed, their own long thought, but also failed to know, perhaps just thoughts.
The sound of rain, is the season, jumping notes, moisturizing the cool summer of two zero four.
Looking out the window at the green trees, can not help but want to go out for a walk, the author is thinking that the air after the rain will be very clear, there will be soil, grass flavor, let a person's heart and soul, comfortable. The rain gradually stopped, smell the grass, mud flavor, more than those flowers to smell comfortable.
The wind is bleak, the rain is dashing, the rain stopped, the rain came again, said the Xinjiang scenery is good, the rain is good scenery, the young girl looked at the lake with an umbrella, the fish in the water play, the mood of the Seychelles, the writers and writers of the past generations, depicted a lot of a lot, and today's Western Region, is also a place of poetry, which makes me think of the "Border everywhere Race Gangnam," a beautiful song, let the people very much like and stay with. people very much like and stay.
Accustomed to the roof of the building to see the sunrise and evening light, accustomed to the street to listen to the evening drums and morning bells, let the sunshine of the broken, colorful dappled points of light, leaving an indelible mark on the body.
August rain, still seems to float in that season, slowly moving, with the wind and go, wet so a piece and a piece of the flowers with the fall of so a place, red and pink decorated with a small piece of grass under the tree.
Autumn in August, blue sky, white clouds, sunny, birds and flowers. It is the season of harvest, the time of fruitfulness. Orange-colored wilderness, a busy scene, the figures, shuttle machinery, far away oxcart, playful children, flying flock of birds, formed a beautiful picture scroll on the wilderness in the fall. The author is stationed at the foot of Kuitun City, a long time to think back to this beautiful picture, imagining this season full of harvest.
Autumn in August, see the grain full of large red dates hanging, thorny jujube groves, experienced the cycle of seasons, bearing the fruits of happiness, just like the people of the Western Region, experienced the environment of frost, snow and rain, year after year of survival in the Western Region, the same earth. With the spirit of "hard work and endurance, not afraid of suffering", is the Western Region on the ground of the spirit of the never-fading flowers.
In the fall of August, the author waited, distant friends, long-standing friendship, like a blooming flower, will never wither. In the fall of August, the author lies under the maple tree with yellow leaves, remembering the distant friends, remembering the days when they used to be together. Those innocent friendship, like the maple tree leaves, clean and neatly fall on the leisurely grass, without a trace of stains and decay, intact, like the friendship that people have been hiding for a long time.
Autumn in August, is a rainy season, that is, an experience, but also a kind of enjoyment; rainy days, ordinary and ordinary, revisit the past, will find that the rainy days doubly precious; rainy days, is full of sadness and joy of the time, every time the rain, there will be a moving story.
In the fall of August, small raindrops drifted across the windowsill, inadvertently knocking on the door of the author's mind, so the sound of raindrops colliding with the ground, which was transformed into a string of notes. With a moment of warmth, there is a guitar and a damp heart, directing a boundless rain of the heart, and then noiselessly under the ground, tightly kissed the autumn that came slowly.
Autumn in August, the author in the neon lights shine on the streets of a person walking silently, colorful street lights, like a picture scroll, blooming with the stars and the moon in the sky at night beautiful, walk through the night of August, into the dream-like place, people quietly, to appreciate the beauty of the month of August, August, the scenery of the Seychelles, the month of August, such as the song of the life of the ... ...