Night Rain in Lhasa is a song written by the Glacier Flying Fox and sung by Suleyaqi. The platform of songs is QQ music. 20 17 was released by Wuhan Haiyun Culture Co., Ltd. on July 26th.
Su Leya, born on August 9th in Bailingmiao Town, Damaoqi, Baotou City, Inner Mongolia, is a Chinese Mongolian female singer and actress. He is now a soloist in Wulanchabu County, Wulanchabu City, Inner Mongolia, a literary volunteer in China, a member of China Musicians Association, a member of Inner Mongolia Musicians Association, and a vice chairman of Inner Mongolia Network Writers Association. She graduated from the Central College of Cultural Management Cadres.
Representative works: Song is Flying, Lassa Rains at Night, Love Slave, The Most Dazzling Journey to Paradise, Dream Back to the Grassland, Love Swamp, True Love Letting Go, Youth by the Stream and many other original songs; Beauty, our parents, a match made in heaven, love loss and other film and television dramas.
Lyrics of Lasa Night Rain
The road to the sky, connected with the lake of memory, resplendent temples, pious protective steps, lotus flowers blooming in front of the Buddha, feels the light of kindness, prays for the missed green vine, and slowly climbs up the window of dreams. The midnight drizzle in Lhasa rings the bell of the heart and steps on the call of the morning bell and the evening drum. On the recent road, the midnight drizzle in Lhasa moistens the meditation room of the heart.
Looking at the figure of the ancient Buddha with a blue lamp, I miss your face at night, the moonlight is like water, the sky is raining, the Sanskrit curling up from the kitchen smoke soothes the melancholy of parting, the clothes with scattered wings are dripping with silent injuries, praying for the love of three generations, quietly growing up in a carefree paradise, and the drizzle in Lhasa at midnight rings the bell of the heart and steps on the call of the morning bell and the evening drum.
The midnight drizzle in Lhasa moistens the meditation room of the soul. Looking at the ancient Buddha figure with blue lanterns, I think about your appearance at night. At night, the moonlight is like water, the sky is raining, Sanskrit songs curl in the smoke, soothing the melancholy of parting, clothes with scattered wings, dripping with silent scars, praying for the love of three generations, quietly growing in a carefree paradise, and the midnight drizzle in Lhasa is ringing my heart.
The figure wearing the ancient Buddha glows blue, and I miss your face at night, the drizzle in Lhasa at midnight, the bell ringing my heart, and the call of the morning bell and the evening drum. On the recent road, the midnight drizzle in Lhasa moistened my heart, watching the figure of the ancient Buddha glowing blue, thinking of your face at night, thinking of your face at night, thinking of your face at night.