Xiao Xiao spring rain, landing noiselessly, prompted the opening of a thousand trees, flowers, moist green miles of fertile field.
In my dream, I was holding an oil-paper umbrella, standing alone in a long, long and lonely alley, singing with the rain:
Rustle, rustle ......
The fine rain is like silk, as light as a falling leaf, as thin as a needle point, as long as a line, a hint of a hint of a hint of a hint of a hint of a hint of a hint of a hint of a hint of a hint, no purpose to ramble down to the ground. The roof, washing the thick accumulation of dust, but also washed away the heart of the melancholy.
The rain in my hometown is a most beautiful fairy tale, it warmly soothes every child;
The rain in my hometown is a most melodious ballad, it warmly vibrates the musical language of every person's 'heart';
The rain in my hometown is a pair of the warmest hands, he softly caresses you to make you forget your heart's unhappiness.
And I, is the rain, a faint landscape, body stained with a sheer drizzle. Ah! I really want to frame this soft rain in a picture frame or combination on the manuscript paper, and then, quietly stuffed into the mailbox - together with my beating heart, sent to a distant place, to solve my devouring thoughts.
The rain in my hometown! Softly down, he lingered, was blown by the evening wind dancing lightly, forming a harmonious music, a very rhythmic and extremely monotonous music, sometimes soothing. At times delicate ......
As if I was also in the alley of my hometown, met a girl with lilac sorrows, a dreamlike, windlike, cloudlike floating away girl ......
The rain in my hometown, last night and moisturized my night of Dreaming ......