Articles on Rain Written in Rainy Day Manuscript (Collection of Grade One)

# Senior One # Introduction The activity of making handwritten newspaper broadens students' horizons, develops students' thinking ability and cultivates students' good study habits. Because their beloved "handwritten newspaper" is waiting for them to design and publish, prompting them to read, think, observe and think, students begin to read widely, not only in class, but also before and after classes and holidays. Chinese, astronomy, geography reading, a lot of reading, and continuous accumulation. They have gained a lot of knowledge that books can't learn, and their comprehensive quality has improved obviously. The following is the relevant information, I hope it will help you!

Tisch

Wang Guozhen's "Random Thoughts on Rain" Sometimes, it is raining outside, but the heart is sunny; Sometimes, it is sunny outside, but it is raining. There are many things in the world for you to taste in comparison. There is sunshine in the heart, and sunshine is also rain; When it rains, the rain is sunny. However, no matter what kind of story, it will be unforgettable when it rains. Rain has a magic power: it can diffuse into a mood, penetrate into an atmosphere and engrave a memory. Of course, sometimes it can be a disaster.

Sandstorms in spring, boredom in summer and dryness in autumn all make people pray for rain. A rain can also make the air fresher and the streets brighter. "Spring rain is as expensive as oil", and it is not just farmers who are eager for rain. When it rains, there is neither the sun nor the moon, but people don't think much. Maybe it's because the rainy season is not cold, so it's good to let the sun cool for a while. Rainy nights have a charm that moonlit nights don't have. Sometimes I can't help but think of Li Shangyin's famous sentence "When * * * cuts the candle at the west window, we talk about the rain at night". Walking in the light rain is more pleasant. Listening to the rustling sound when the rain gently beats the broad leaves of Populus davidiana or Platanus acerifolia, the beauty that moistens the bottom of my heart is incomparable even to the elegant melody of "autumn whisper" flowing under Richard Clayderman's piano. Nature's uncanny workmanship is really unparalleled. A couple walking in an alley, the scene is very ordinary. But on rainy days, holding a light blue umbrella in your hand and wearing a windbreaker on your body will make a big difference. At first glance, Youth in the Rain is an enduring picture. In the north, there are not many rainy days 365 days a year. So if there is poetic rain or poetic rain every day, I feel curious.

extreme

Rain-a piece of sunshine spread out on the terrace outside Ba Jin's window. Looking up, you can also see a blue sky on the roof tile. I haven't seen such sunny weather for many days. In the morning, I stood on the terrace and held my head high to receive the first ray of sunshine. I feel that my body suddenly becomes very light. I remembered the story of that Italian friend.

Lu Yiju. During his release, he died of illness a few years ago, but he was in his forties. He was an Italian fugitive and an irreconcilable enemy of Mussolini. It never occurred to him that Italy, where he had no freedom, closed his eyes forever at such a young age. 1927 rainy Paris in the spring, one morning, the sun shone into his room, and he was particularly happy to point to the sun and say, this is a great and gratifying thing. I know how he feels. He comes from southern Europe and sunny Italy. Seeing the rare sunshine in Paris in spring, he remembered the blue sky in his hometown. He abandoned the blue sky for freedom; He devoted his life to freedom. But freedom is different from the blue sky, and he will never see each other again.

I like the sun, just as I did at the press conference. But sometimes I also love rain. I haven't played an umbrella for more than ten years, and I don't know how many times it rained. Even in 1927, when the release complained about the lack of sunshine in Paris, it often risked dimensions.

Rain, at dusk and night, walked to the foot of Rousseau statue in front of the national funeral home, revealing the painful heart of a young foreigner to the giant known as "18th century world conscience".

My personality is not perfect. I often swallow a full stomach of fire, but I still want to keep my mind at peace. Sometimes my stomach burns and the pain is unbearable. I had a premonition of a terrible explosion. In order to put out this fire, I often go barefoot to the wet street and let the cold rain wash my hot face.

Drops of water ran down my cheeks from my hair and stained my lenses. My clothes are wet. What appeared in front of my eyes was only a vague rain scene, a vague ... white article ... I walked aimlessly up and down the street. When I turned the corner, I didn't notice which street I came to. I have other things on my mind. My feet know the way. Walking through street after street, I didn't pay attention to people and things in the street, but I didn't get hit by a car or fall to the ground. When my eyes couldn't see the real world, I walked back to my position.

I looked embarrassed when I came home. But my mind is much fresher. As if in my heart

The accumulated dust seems to have been washed away by a heavy rain.

I know that everyone has the habit of "worrying about drinking". Our predecessors also used to say "drown my sorrows by drinking". Now I am "borrowing rain to wash my sorrows".

I like rain for no reason.

1July 20, 940

Tisso

Listen to the rain (Ji Xianlin) It began to rain early in the morning. Rain is not a rare thing, but it is spring rain. As the saying goes, "Spring rain is as expensive as oil." In the rare drought, its preciousness can be imagined.

"Moistening things quietly", the spring rain is very small, as small as "nothing". However, I sat on the balcony and was divided into a small house with a big piece of iron on the top. The eaves dripping from upstairs hit the iron sheet and made a sound, so it was not "silent". According to common sense, I sat there, obsessed with the same kind of extinct language. I should have needed a quiet environment, a quiet mood to settle down and enter the role to interpret this gobbledygook. This sound of rain banging on the tin plate should be extremely annoying, so it is necessary to hurry and then.

However, the opposite is true. I sat there quietly and heard the sound of raindrops overhead. At this time, the sound is better than silence, and I feel boundless joy in my heart, as if I had drunk the fairy dew and took a sip, and I felt very high. This voice is sometimes slow and urgent, sometimes high and sometimes low, sometimes loud and sometimes heavy, sometimes like a golden voice, sometimes like a yellow bell, sometimes like pouring large and small pearls into a plate of jade, sometimes like playing the pipa, sometimes like flying from the blue, sometimes like a hundred birds contending, sometimes like a rabbit falling, I can't help it, I am elated and elated. The dead language seems to be alive, and I seem to be full of youthful vitality. I have rarely had such a spiritual realm in my life, let alone being humane to others.

In China, listening to the rain is an elegant thing. Although I don't think I am a complete layman, it's hard to say whether I can become an elegant person. I'm probably an animal between elegance and vulgarity. There are many works about listening to the rain in China's ancient poems. By the way, it seems rare in foreign poetry. My friend Zhang Yong recalled his cousin's poem: "Spring pool dreams often add a kind word. Every time I smell the rain at night, I think of sleeping together." It's quite poetic Even Sister Lin in A Dream of Red Mansions likes Li Yishan's phrase "Stay dry and listen to the rain". The most famous poem listening to the rain is, of course, Song Jiangjie's Young Beauty, which is not long, so I will copy it:

Teenagers listen to the rain in the song building,

The red candle is weak.

In the prime of life, listening to the rain on the boat,

Zhang Guoyun is low,

Broken geese are called westerly winds.

Now listen to the rain monk,

The temple is full of stars.

Sorrow and joy are always ruthless,

One step ago,

Drip till dawn.

Jie Jiang's mood when listening to the rain is quite complicated. He summed up his life by listening to the rain, from youth, prime of life to old age, and reached the realm of "total ruthlessness in joys and sorrows". However, there are considerable differences between ancient and modern concepts of the elderly. He is a "star on the temple" and his hair is a little white. The oldest seems to be only about fifty years old. From today's perspective, he is just between middle age and old age. Compared with myself, I am nine years old, and my temples are no longer "stars", but "Tongshan" on them. I am more qualified than him to reach the realm of "emotions are always ruthless". I have been able to "make waves, not happy or afraid".

But why am I in a high mood when I listen to the rain today? There is not much elegance in it. I am a complete "layman" here. I think mainly of wheat, which is the green wheat seedling on the vast Yuan Ye. I was born in the country. Although I left at the age of six, I can't talk about doing farm work, but I have picked up wheat, beans, mowed grass and cut sorghum leaves. I have farmer's blood in my veins. Until today, I have deep feelings for farmers and rural areas all my life. Farmers hope to get more grain. Drought threatens the growth of crops. Even though I have lived in the city for a long time, whenever it rains, I will look at Yun Ni and claim that I am as anxious as a farmer. Spring in the north, nine droughts in ten years. There seems to be another drought this year. I listen to the weather forecast every day and always observe the clouds in the sky. Worry, nothing can be done. What I saw in my dream was the rain in Mao Mao.

My dream came true this morning. I sat on this balcony, which is only a few feet long and a few feet wide. When I heard the rain overhead, I couldn't help but be fascinated and relaxed. In Kokodaka's rugged wheat field, every leaf seems to open its mouth and suck sweet raindrops, like dew from heaven, which was a little yellow and withered, but now it turns green. It used to be green, but now it's greener. The universe adds a warmth and peace out of thin air.

My heart is back, back to the Yanyuan, back to the hill next to my building, back to the lotus pond in front of the door. My favorite February orchid is in bloom. They desperately struggled out of the soil, withstood the drought, and reluctantly opened red and white flowers, which were as bright as ever, giving people a feeling of loneliness. In the lotus pond, hibernating lotus just woke up, ready to impact the water. Of course, there is no shortage of water. But Mao Mao raindrops draw small circles on the water, which will lead to death. This was originally appreciated by poets in human beings, but Xiao Lotus was also happy to see it, and she was full of energy, and she was sure to drill out of the water soon.

My heart is closer to the next floor, and I received it from this balcony and my room. My head is jingling as before, and I'm in a good mood. But I'm always worried that it will suddenly stop. I prayed silently that the rain would ring for a long time and never stop.