It rains at night in Bashan, outside the window, it is a rainy season. The pattering wets the streets, wets the pedestrians, and wets the mood; it is the wandering of the wind, the brilliance of the rain, and the whisper of the heart; the following is there, welcome to read.
: Night Rain in Bashan
The rain gurgled outside the curtains, dyeing the plantains green, and ushered in the chirping of warblers in twos and threes. The rain in the south of the Yangtze River is delicate and gentle, falling continuously, like frost and snow on a beautiful woman's wrist, or like a misty rain on a green mountain with a small phoenix. Lingering
The spring scenery remains the same, and the warblers sing. The people in the painting hall fall asleep in the quiet first rain. A deep sleep is indispensable, but a nap also has a unique flavor. Faintly, sleepy, drunk with the wine of longing...
Looking for a good dream, it is hard to find it, and the tears flow eastward speechlessly. The resentment of an idiot man and an idiot girl from far away through the ages, the mountains are high and the rivers are long without you seeing... From the sad *** flowers of the eternal Southern Dynasties to the prosperous neon clothes and feathers in the swaying lobby; from the gurgling rain curtains of the empress to the prosperous times. Wei Yuyan flew together and walked all the way. This night, this rain, is the continuous solo of Bashan's night talk; it is the elegance and nobility of drinking tea around the stove; it is the richness of something; it is the flow of lovesickness that Hongdou reflects on.
The soul of the moon is noble, the rain curtain is lightly connected, the rain falling on other people's houses, are they Daiyu's tears? Or the pain of the white snake? Is it Baoyu's obsession? Or is it Xu Xian's invitation? Think about what it will be like to leave the tower after a thousand years. Where will you be after a thousand years? I just wish we could meet each other indefinitely, and partridges cannot fly together.
How much hate, in my dream last night, I still felt like I was traveling to Shangwan in the old days, with cars like flowing water and horses like dragons, and the moon and flowers were in the spring breeze. But now, the green lanterns are dry and the water is smelly, the banana umbrellas are leaking, and a flick of candlelight is flickering, a night in Bashan, a night of rain...
: Night rain in Bashan
You ask about your return date Before the time comes, it rains at night in Bashan and the autumn pond rises. Why should I cut off the candles from the west window and say that it rains at night in Bashan. ——Li Shangyin
It’s late at night, are you okay? It has been raining for four days in a row. The river outside the window is full. The rain is still falling, hitting the broad leaves of the shrubs in the small yard. There is a crackling sound, the water in the bay pond is about to overflow. Have you used the basket on your back to catch the fish in the ditch again? Is the Hongtiao ditch still full of loaches as in previous years?
I miss you, Mom. It’s been years since we’ve seen each other. I often see you in my dreams, but why do I always dream about what happened when I was a child: The autumn rain was pouring down, from the afternoon to the next day. Early in the morning, the water in Wanyan Pond overflowed. The leaves of the neem tree had been beaten by the rain and fell off, leaving only a handful of bare branches. The foot of the tree was full of yellow leaves. The most pitiful thing was behind the house. The wind blew over the pair of magpies that lived in the saponaria tree, and they were chattering and crying on the top of the tree. There is no need to go out to mow the grass on a rainy morning. My brother and I were still kicking the blankets on the bed when we heard the sound of the door opening. I knew it was you who had gone out. You were thinking about the vegetable seedlings that had fallen down in the rain. At the same time, you also heard the sound of the door opening. I couldn’t forget to take the basket and go to the ditch to catch the fish - it can improve my life - the panicked little fish followed the pouring water and fell into the basket in a daze. There was a wisp of grass in the basket. , that is the refuge grass prepared for the small fish. The small fish hides under the grass so that it will not jump around. There must be a plate on the lunch table. In fact, it is a coarse pottery bowl-like thing. We call it tanbo. Small fish fried with pickled vegetables and fresh fish herbs are placed on it. I can't forget the smell for many years. Even today, I even want to eat the fried fish with pickled cabbage made by my mother. What I will never forget is the red soil all over the mountains and plains. When the water rose, loaches and eels ran all over the ditches. At that time, the ditches and fields became our paradise. The caught loaches and eels were tied into strings with mulberry branches, and we were barefoot. While running on the field, a sudden gust of autumn wind made us shiver. The soaked coarse trousers made us cold and happy. We ran home and huddled next to my sister's stove to feel warm. Dad once said that chicken and fish egg noodles are not as good as grilled eel. The cooked eel was fragrant when taken out from the stove. I said I would tear it into pieces for the kitten, but after a while there was only a pile of eel bones left on the stove. But I ran into the bamboo forest behind the house as fast as I could. My mother laughed at me for a long time.
The past is unbearable to look back on. Who can escape from life? Riding a horse in the forest of dead leaves, the wind is cold and the heart is troubled. But the fleeting time does not allow us to be slow, we can only smile at life and move forward all the way.
The fleeting years secretly leave people behind, success or failure is useless, the wind and rain turn into flowers. I think of a few lines from a poem called "Boiled Flowers in the Night Rain", which seems to fit my mood at the moment. Time can't catch up with the white horse. Are you still holding on to the dream talk in your young hands? The clouds are turning into summer, and the tears are evaporated by the years. . At this moment, you who are far away in the world, how are you?
Tonight, it is another cold rainy night in Bashan, in the back alleys of the mountain city, I suddenly think of some people...
The autumn wind and autumn rain are getting colder, calling. Hua'er wants to eat fried rice candies, don't let the dog bite me, calling Hua'er a motherless person! People who have seen it also: