Before dawn, the rain kept falling around the red sun, which was about to win the prize.
Red, like a dazzling agate plate, moves slowly upward. Around the red sun, the sunset is exhausted. The faint cloud, like a girl in red, is dancing, and its affectation softens the heart of the rain, as if to say to the rain again; If you are well, it will be sunny! The rain left the last trace of nostalgia and left the night with sadness.
It's dawn. I'm really sleepy. The warm sunshine shines on me, and I feel inexplicably sad. I can't tell whether the rain has gone or I don't like the night. Open the window, a clear smell, with a faint fragrance. Spring dew lay on the dying hay, wetting the whole ground and my heart. Only butterflies flying from time to time bring me a slight smile, I think.
Through the muddy path, there is still a little cold in winter, only the warm sunshine sweeps away the remnants. In the tree, I heard the cuckoo's cry, and the echo was swinging on the distant foothills for a long time, like A Lang calling Ashima! I seem to see their beautiful love in the legend, but Ashima's beauty suffered from A Lang's misfortune.
Passing by a resting place of Rosa davurica, I saw it show its new teeth and spit out a red letter, as if to say to me; If you dare to step over this thorn bush, I can catch your scar, so I have to step back and look away. I seem to hear its strange laughter coming from behind. If Edward's scissors can repair it and make me less afraid, maybe I can touch it intimately. Is it too weak? How does it protect itself? Maybe I shouldn't comment like this. Just a life, an intelligent life, let me admire!
The breeze swept across my cheeks, and I smelled the long-lost flowers. My mind is full of troubles. Born on the scent, walk slowly in a few steps. I came to the valley. Maybe I shouldn't have seen such a scene. The stream in early spring is still clear, clear enough to see pebbles in shallow water, and the beautiful scenery shot down by rain floats on one side, like a mermaid's petal bath. I really don't see the shadow of a mermaid, but it seems a bit bleak.
Peach blossoms in the valley have been slightly attacked by rain, their petals have been broken, and several lonely flowers are still clinking upwards and desperately opening. The beauty I met was so bleak that I suddenly remembered Du Fu's poems.
"Peach blossoms are warm in spring, which doesn't look good. Unfortunately, the wind is blowing from behind, and the dark red patches are covered with raspberries. " If I can travel through time and space, I know exactly how poets feel when they write ink. I was sad when I saw her crying in the stream. Looking at the flowers floating around, I always think, "Why don't the green leaves come back and the flowers bloom first?" ! If love is born of providence, I will tell Ye not to wait, not to let the flowers sigh fleeting, and looking at the red leaves should be the makeup remover on your face. I really can't witness that scene!
Butterflies embroider and dance, bees sing, and bid farewell to the last withering. "Listening to the wind and rain at night, I don't know how many flowers have been folded?" If it is a complaint, who is to blame? Is it wind or rain? Maybe you are so fragile without the protection of green leaves!
The wheat waves in the distance rise and fall from time to time, rippling the ripples of the sea, but sparrows have replaced the fish to shuttle and jump there! Put aside my troubles. What should I do?
Pick up a piece of sadness,
I asked spring,
Who did you give tenderness to?