Listen, "pattering" "clattering", this is the music of rain, this is the music of nature, this is the music of life. Here to share with you some about listening to the rain Essay , I hope to help you.
About listening to the rain Essay 1
The sky was dark and dreary, and a few drops of rain hit the window, making a "pop-pop-pop-pop" sound, and flowed down the window.
When I came out of the class, it was raining very hard, and the rain was pouring down on the ground in waves. A flash of lightning fell from the sky, illuminating one of the waves, one white and one black, like a warrior in armor fighting in the rain.
A gust of wind, just a gust, and I was soaked to the skin. My hair was overwhelmed, and a few drops of water dripped on the ground. A few drops of water dripped on the ground, and a few small, subtle sounds of "pop, pop, pop" accompanied the downpour, like a rock concert played by nature, and the leaves swayed with the wind and "rustle, rustle, rustle, rustle, rustle, rustle, rustle, rustle, rustle, rustle, rustle, rustle" joined in the very powerful rock concert.
The car finally arrived, I rushed to get on the car, the rain is still falling, and down more, like a pot of water as splashed on the windows, blurred windows, water dripping down the windows, "bang bang bang" as if someone is knocking on the windows. At this point, I can not hear any sound, only hear the wind and rain hit the windows, the sound of the earth.
The rock music stopped when I got out of the car, but nature didn't stop playing. The drizzle wrapped up the final performance, and now it was as if a mother was caressing her child's face and singing a lullaby, coaxing, gently, for fear of waking the sleeping child. The noise of the city, the barking of the dog, the cry of the baby, can be heard.
The rain stops, a few "ticks", that is, from the trees, the eaves of the house drops down, not yet finished.
About listening to the rain essay 2
A magical and mysterious word, a word that can not be depicted in words, a word that is full of deep feelings of other words, it is just like the name of Xu it - rain.
Perhaps it is the advent of early summer, perhaps it is the farewell of late spring, perhaps it is the deep meaning of the world, in this April and May in the handover, frequently come. For some reason, there is always an inexplicable stirring.
Accompanied by a slight coolness, accompanied by a full of joy, accompanied by a crisp song in this rainy season, waving the splendor of the sunset. It is always unexpected to come to your side, but then gently and quietly away. What makes you cling to it is still the stirring mood.
The night has been peaceful, only the rain alone.
As if only for a moment, the dark night is even darker, the street lamps bloomed out of the soft light by the darkness mercilessly surrounded by the insects chirping powerless and loud, lullabies as lack of people. However, this time is no one wants to go to sleep! Thoughts at this time are at a delicate edge, as if everything is expanding, as if everything is contracting in front of them. There are as brilliant and colorful as a midsummer night's dream, and there are as detained and open as an early summer dream.
Sultry heat ensues, the mind somehow flashes despair, all around stupidity in the darkness of the trees with teeth and claws to meet the face, with the leaves of a group of demons like the appalling rustle, the heat of the summer tide of the silent influx, suffocating, approaching ...... suddenly startled, violently lifted the window. The rain has not stopped, a person a kind of settled mood, pattering rain, pale, cold and proud, as if from the war has returned to peace, only to feel the heart of the clear air across ......
Rain is the world's most gentle thing, knocking not that heavy steel and concrete room. The more rapid the rain, the more generous and exciting sound, such as a hundred horses, such as ten thousand horses galloping. The more the rain slows down, only to feel the gentle percolation into your heart, listening to the rain roaming out of the friendship.
The night has the beauty of the night, the rain has the charm of the rain. However, listening to the rain in the dark night, it is naturally a wonderful thing. Misty, rain through a kind of inexplicable mood, as if it rejected me outside of a thousand miles, but I can feel from the deepest part of the consciousness of its existence, is so clear, is so clear. In the air drifted the pleasure and loss after the experience of confusion.
Listening to the rain is a conversation of the soul, listening to the sincere run-down, listening to the vicissitudes of the past, listening to the blooming of the flowering season. There is also that the past is difficult to re-depreciate and melancholy. It seems that only in listening to the rain when the constraints of the soul will be able to breathe.
The rain is still sprinkling down, a thousand strands of fine line, seemingly even non-consecutive, intermittent, hitting the twilight of spring "residual flowers", line of sight along the wet concrete road, looking at the scattered petals and stems and leaves on the water droplets continue to roll down, is a bit of a "spring spring to go, a few times! The first thing you need to do is to get a good feeling for yourself and your family.
Rain, in the early summer constantly singing, only the heart of the people to savor.
On listening to the rain essay 3
Out to play, the sudden downpour, I was trapped in a small banana tree, through the rain curtain, I saw the master of the house across the four generations of the same family, laughter echoed in a rain song ...... heart remembered the late Grandma, so write this little article. ---Title
Strange you, strange rain, wandering me, met in the rain, I realized that the original world, so small. Quiet rainy night, listen, the sound of rain ringing ......
In every moment of my growth, there is your figure engraved in it. Sometimes, you are like an elegant beauty, in my ears gently tell; sometimes, you are very much like a child, in my figure burst your vitality; sometimes, you are like a wise old man, will be mutilated memories tell ......
Childhood me, living in my grandma's house, whenever you appeared, it is the most happy time for me. In your dance, through the small gap between the doorway, I went to peep at the night rain acted translation of the one-act play, fold a small boat, through the hidden doorway, gently placed on the water, the raindrops converged into a thin stream, leisurely carrying it forward, sailing to the far side of the dream.
Teenage me, unruly, in their own domination of the world, on what things are not cared about, but preferred to get drunk in your dream, eliminated the color, scattered fragrance ...... walk tired, in the banana head down in contemplation, through your woven curtain, to see the leaf under the "heaven and earth". I'm not sure if I'm going to be able to do that.
Now I am coming of age, on the way to maturity, gradually ignored your figure, let you call me a thousand times, I have not yet come out, let you knock on the window sill, I am still "holding the pipa". You fell in the pond, shaking, the first lotus, retreating frogs, banished the fly dance, give up the fish play, such as the realm of the pond surface ripples, the geese to send a memory ......
You walk alone, looking forward to the soil to send a fragrance, mixed with the flavor of your taste. The geese go south, bring a wisp of fragrance, whether you will shed tears of joy after a long time of loneliness? The rain that resides in the memory, accompanied me through the quiet years, are you okay?
The rainy night, cold and lonely. The first thing you need to do is to take a look at the color of the rain, and then you can see the color of the rainbow. After a long time, always remember such a rainy night, a brace of green stone umbrella, a glass lamp, a silent person.
In the rain curtain, see your figure again, banana leaves mottled your white hair, unchanged is your familiar smile, like a summer flower blooming ......
On listening to the rain essay 4
Close your eyes, in this piece of red city, you hear
How long has it been since I've tried to listen to the wind and rain in a small building overnight, and see the apricot blossoms being sold in the deep alleys tomorrow?
I often like to listen to the rain, only to find that there is a Zen in the rain, listening to a kind of tranquility, a rhythm, but also a kind of culture.
The rain in Beijing is rough and solemn. The solemn Forbidden City, the solemn Tiananmen Square, bean-sized raindrops dripping on the ground, such as beads falling from the sound of the jade disk as if someone is playing ten ambushes with a pipa, the sound of the rain is dense and powerful, rhythmic, strong and rugged.
Chengdu's rain is a flavor of life, wandering in the country of Tianfu Broad and Narrow Alley is the epitome of the past clouds, a symbol of the depths of memory, hold an umbrella, listen to the rain. Pattering, I heard the rain hitting the Longtang Inn, hitting the head of the door, hitting the sycamore tree, and splashing into the eaves of the old teahouse in the cup of tea. I heard the rain hitting the wall bricks and splashing on the ground, stirring up countless water splashes, and laughing, mixing into the sound of the old man's Dragon Gate talk.
The rain in Suzhou is gentle, just like the ancient books say, the rain is gentle, the rain is full of smoke. Walking on the street is full of gentle Jiangnan women and gentle and clean young man, speaking a fine and soft Wu language, gently speak, gently laugh, gently walk, the rain is also, gently, not carefully are not too hear. Find a dim sum store, cook tea and listen to the rain. The sound of the rain is like the rustling of a textile machine in the distance. It's vague and dreamy, and the rain that gathers under the eaves falls drop by drop, like beads on a broken string. Listening to the rain here, time was slowed down, some fell into the fairy tale feeling, at this time, all the bad trouble, left behind, the heart is calm.
Then go to a mountain. Not high, not dangerous, there are some people living in the study of Buddhism, my mother and I deliberately went to visit. Halfway up the mountain, surrounded by smoke and clouds, cool silk, like silk, feel very soft. The residence is very simple and cool. A bamboo forest, there is a brick house in the middle, into the brick house, built-in antique, many paintings and calligraphy hanging on the wall, ink and paper, neat sutras, a incense burner, a pot of tea just boiled. The flickering candle, as well as, accidentally splashed into the window pane of the rain.
The man invited us to eat tea, some rain outside the window, some kind of soul on the body was touched, making me very happy. Sitting on the window pane, looking at bamboo, closed eyes. I heard the Zen. That is the sound of rain splashing on the window pane, that is the sound of rain splashing into the tea, that is the sound of rain hitting the Huangzhu like a peyote ring, that is, the rain in the sutra swooshing open delicate sound, as if silent and sound. Cold rain, in this moment is Zen. How can the worldly clamor of the rain understand the Zen return to the mountain of the rain of the ease of it?
Sip a mouthful of tea, the corner of the mouth can not hide the smile, rain Zen, clean my heart.
On listening to the rain essay 5
junior year, junior year, this let people hate and have to pass the Kan finally came. The rain outside the window pattering down, my mood bored, do not know what the junior means, and do not know directly down to what I have to face.
Finally, I opened a window, and a light drizzle drifted down on my desk, gently pounding my cheeks and making me reach for them. I took off a layer of my jacket and pushed the door open to slam into the world of rain. The sky was still gray, and as I listened intently to the pattering rain, letting it hit my head, face, and body, I felt something release, a force wanting to burst forth. I was thinking in detail, pondering, how to pass the third year of junior high school, still the same as the first year, the second year of the same mix over? Will I still enter high school with the fifth best grade in the school? The rain seemed to be getting heavier, the water droplets on my head were already coming down, and I was still thinking hard. It was so tempting to avoid it! Snapping my eyes open, I realized that the air around me was much fresher, and looked at the road and the roofs, freshly washed by the rain. It wasn't raining so hard, it was still falling like that, but my mood brightened up. I realized that the trees and houses in the distance were so visible, and everything was so clear, which I had not noticed before. Yes, that's it, Wang Yue you can't sleep anymore! Junior year, must be good to cheer!
Ah, listen carefully to the rain, I seem to see the dry grass, dry rivers, stretching out a pair of eager hands, eagerly sucking the milk of the earth. It was as if I heard the sound of spring rain moisturizing everything. It was as if I had become one with the rain. I ran fast and cheered in the drizzle, and the flowers were full of manna and were enjoying the happy breeze!
Rain, finally stopped! I also gradually stopped, sideways looked back at the distant mountains, ah! What a beautiful view. The trees, the mountains, the starry village intertwined, the most shocking is the endless, green fields, I breathe the fresh air, enjoy the breeze, at this time I really appreciate the great Chairman Mao's eyes of the magnificent mountains and rivers, can really send out the "mountains and rivers are so beautiful! "The sentiment, in order to realize my great ideal, I have to struggle!
Rain, the spirit of nature, I really love you ......
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