Sentences and paragraphs describing rain in Lingling Xiang

The drizzle is beating and rippling in the mist. It's like a little lotus flower blooming in water blue, blooming on a dark blue river with more or less Zen meaning. The drizzle, gentle and smooth, quietly harmonizes a quiet Lijiang River into a mountain. The water is water, and the mountains and rivers blend together. The smoke is caged at the water's edge, as if it were a freehand painting that set each other off in the misty rain. Boating in the ink-and-wash Lijiang River, you can't see the truth or the reality clearly, and you can't tell what it is; In splashing ink, the charm of Lijiang River was dyed just right. Ling Bo swims, and figures, bridge shadows, tower shadows and mountain shadows also float gently in the clear waves. From a distance, the mountain-shaped outline of Gushui Village is covered with a layer of gauze, which is irresistible.

The unique charm in the rain adds a bit of profundity and remoteness to the exquisiteness solidified in simplicity and tranquility. "People walk in the painting and the painting swims in the water", so the Lijiang River in the rain constitutes a moving axis of ink painting. It is not heavy ink, but elegant and fragrant, without a trace of greasy, which makes you intoxicated in refreshing and quiet.

Falling in love with rain, wandering raindrops are like spirits falling into the mortal world, crossing the eaves, leaves and hearts, washing away the floating dust in the air with an empty persistence, and restoring a clear world and an ethereal heart.

I like to walk alone in the rain with an umbrella at this time. Through the rain curtain, everything in front of me, including me, has become hazy. The sound of rain falling on the umbrella was wet and deep. Walking in the rain in the south of the Yangtze River, for a foreigner, you will wonder whether it is rain or fog. The rain is as light as flying. . The rain floating in the distant sky is like smoke and fog, beautiful as a curtain, and has the charm of rain dance. The rain fluttering with the wind fell obliquely. Let you reach out, but you can't catch it. All I catch is this reserved air.

Wandering into a long alley at will, on the wet bluestone road, I bumped into an oil-paper umbrella that was watching in the rain lane. A woman wearing a blue cloth with a lilac-like graceful bitterness passed by, only to see her lightly moving the footsteps of the lotus in the hazy, smiling like a flower, with a low eyebrow tenderness, immediately filled the whole Gu Xiang, but it was not that graceful expression that made me look back. As the saying goes, only the rain in Jiangnan can raise such a gentle soul, and with the praise of many elegant writers, the misty rain in Jiangnan will be as transparent as jade. When you concentrate, it's misty and rainy ahead. At this time, the heart will wander to distant places with the fragrance, and the dead buds will bloom again one by one. Let a lot of emotions pile up, just like clouds and rain all over the sky. In the haze, in the distance, I can't help myself. So I began to fantasize about wearing a plain cheongsam, walking on the misty rain bridge, folding a willow with my hand, or leaning against a half-open window, listening to the pouring of continuous drizzle.

I have always stubbornly believed that the rain in the south of the Yangtze River is connected with love. It gives me the feeling that rain is more like a sentimental and sad tear of a lovesick woman. There used to be too much forbearance and too long waiting. At this time, it began to rain in Hua Song, which stopped it. Falling into the earth, wetting the season. Through the space of time, we will never leave this world. Love in misty rain is rendered soft and sad, which truly reflects the sadness of the sentence "misty rain in the south of the Yangtze River, only heartbroken is beautiful". This kind of rain is the most touching.

Maybe it's not sad tears, but the mood I want to express this season. With a delicate and delicate posture, it is delicate and greasy, warm and light, and exudes a different feeling. If, at this time, the cool raindrops slide over your cheeks, you will not feel strange, but have a warm feeling flowing. There is a lot of peace in my heart when it is cloudy, which makes me "wet my clothes and want to rain apricot flowers, but I have no cold willows when I blow my face." I can't get rid of my verdict.

The "small bridge and flowing water family" in Ma Zhiyuan's famous song "Qiu Si" in Yuan Dynasty is also a true portrayal of the water towns in the south of the Yangtze River. Jiang Nanyu, which is thin and transparent, reconciles a variety of emotional feelings and different humanistic atmosphere. In addition, there is a heavy history, such as "How many towers are misty and rainy", such as opening dusty ancient books and facing the missing Millennium loneliness. The weight it carries is naturally heavy and unusual. It has added a lot of heaviness and stability to Jiangnan.

Looking at the south of the Yangtze River, I heard the sound of rain. Wandering in the misty rain, I found myself suddenly out of the world of mortals. Accidentally fell into the artistic conception of ancient rhyme, stained with a touch of ink, elegant and elegant. Looking at the railing, the river is green, and in the eternal dream, we stick to the belief that "the twenty-four bridges are still there". Although "the waves are swaying, and Leng Yue is silent", I can still sing "There are no bright moon flowers dancing solo at night, and there are poems in my belly".

Misty rain is still silent, as thin as silk, circling the years and weaving the south of the Yangtze River in August. At the moment, the air is cold and cheerless, only myself and the smile fixed under the umbrella move to the depths of the years.

The autumn night is bleak, and the east gate drinks frost in the morning.

Rustling trees add new enemies, and homesickness sends poems.

Youth is fleeting and the beauty is exhausted, and the return period often leans against the window.

The wind blows flowers and tears, and a piece of paper tells the truth.

Autumn is bleak, near Chongyang, homesick and heartbroken. The leaves were dyed yellow by the autumn wind, and Qiu Si quietly climbed up the closed window. After the wind, my thoughts are flying with the falling dead leaves. The shadows are messy, the heart is dark, and the west wind is cool.

Fallen leaves pile up and spread endless melancholy. Walking on the forest path, looking up at the white clouds floating leisurely, I suddenly felt that I was drifting with the flow and things were changing.

Prosperity is exhausted, my heart is cold, I sigh, and I am lonely! Time has passed, time has passed. How can I remember the jade dance and red makeup at that time? The past is as light as smoke, lacking in body and mind. From then on, I stopped asking about the sadness in the world.

Tears completed, thinking crazy, silent night long and dark. Who did you choose dogwood for? Who will enjoy the yellow flowers with me? Hang in there, don't be sad. Its beautiful scenery should be empty, so it is self-drinking and inviting the bright moon to be alone. In this long quiet night, pour shallow wine and whisper.

My heart is broken, and I don't know where the wine wakes me up. Window, I dispelled the sadness. Your face melted in the dim moonlight, and I raised my eyes feebly, unable to penetrate the vast sky.

I hate this world, my heart is broken, and I have nowhere to talk. In the melancholy years, in the world of mortals, who made you think too much?

There is no sadness, there are tears in my hometown, and deep sadness lingers in my heart for a long time. I didn't want to talk before, but now I am far apart and hate Bi Tianchang.

When I am sad, the scenery is bleak, the autumn sky has revealed a glimmer of light, and the night on the cold Zhu Jiang is endless. If the clouds clear and I cross the clear water, can I see the village that fascinates me? Shaoguang 3000 is prosperous and the years are quiet. May my soul put on a pair of wings, cross Qian Shan and be with them forever.

It's cool, but it's just a midnight dream.

The blue sky is endless, but there is nowhere to put this inexplicable melancholy. Looking around, I can't find familiar faces. Put pen to paper, my eyes are full of tears. Dreams come at night, and those beautiful moments are gone. Worry is hard to break, raise your glass, who will invite you to drink in this life?

Wan Li breeze, drunken shadows dancing in the sunset. It's heartbreaking to evoke old grievances. The afterglow of the setting sun dyed the top of the forest red. In this drunken sunset, I slowly crouched down and hugged myself, letting strong thoughts swallow me up and feel lonely.

This is still the heartbroken years, and thousands of souls are betrayed. The gorgeous sunset unfolds and the river is clear. The sky shines softly, but it is clear and ethereal. The birds have returned to their nests and spread their wings. I wonder if you can take my blessings and thoughts away? And can your wings carry my humble and heavy wishes?

The sun is fading, and the jade flute is heard from the Han River in the distance. Such as long white clouds and flowing water, the sound of nature is full of volume and relaxation, and the charm is soft and elegant, creating an ethereal and distant artistic conception. That sound is sad and moving, and everything in the world is dissolved in this deep yearning, which makes me sad.

Listen to the sound of nature, feel the sound slowly flowing in your heart, as light as water, as if it were a dream. Touching the heart is painful, and a clear sound makes the ileum more. Nai Wan is difficult to cross Qian Shan, and the red shadow wets the window, making Qiu Guang thin. My hometown haunts me day and night! Let me dream about my family! The return date is far away, and tears are streaming down her face. Thoughts intersect, difficulties are silent, and the night is long.

Night is a long dream. Who did Qiu Si tell? Loneliness, dark ecstasy, Qian Fan, dew fell to the end of the world. The face in the mirror is empty and thin, and the brocade book is full of affection. Looking back on the past every night, I feel sad and heartbroken.

When the breeze rises, the river ripples. Missing is like autumn water all over the river, spreading round and round, but there is no end. Thousands of miles away, are you thinking that you are like me at the moment?

The night sky is silent, and the cool wind blows my heart. How many dusty memories clearly emerge and flow in my dreams. Times have changed, things have changed, and everything has long been a memory. And those pasts have not been gradually forgotten with the wear and tear of time. Sadness is sleepless, and dreams are melodious.

A clear song is sent from afar, and it is hard to complain about acacia. Sadness has been brewing and flooding, and it is doomed to escape the shackles of this yearning. Sadness haunts my heart, homesickness grows stronger and stronger, and I win deeper tears.

People are thousands of miles away, but Conan MengMeng is hard to wake up. Go home in the clouds and fog and look at the horizon. The autumn water over the river seems unintentional, reflecting my long night. Soul and dream often depend on each other, beauty is empty, there is nowhere to complain about three thousand worries, and yellow flowers bloom again.

Jinse dancing, flowers blooming and falling, is another season. Last night, the flowers blown down by the wind and rain left a place, a sad scene, and a faint person, crying, smelling faint flowers, faint thoughts, faint thoughts. Last night, the rain fell dust, but the flowers were sad.

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If the flower is a dream, it is full of injuries.

The moonlight is cold and the years pass. Time flies. No mercy, 20 years have passed. The weather in late autumn is still cool. I was awakened by the sound of rain in my sleep. I woke up on a rainy night and the quilt was long gone. Suddenly, the coolness came and I looked at the edge of the bed. Silk, which was kicked aside, lay quietly on the blanket. I don't think my thoughts have ever been so clear. I looked at the dark gray sky full of sadness through the windowsill and lamented that the fleeting time and the falling autumn leaves were so sad, not because of the withering of the fallen leaves, but because the flowers were similar year by year and people were different year by year. This unchangeable law, withered flowers will bloom again in the coming year, and the fragrance of flowers will remain unchanged and endless. I was born young, young.

In the streets of late autumn, there are few pedestrians on the road. Apart from the cold weather, the most touching thing is that the red leaves scattered on the street are blown by the breeze, dancing like butterflies, flourishing, the wind blowing, and the ground is desolate. After the prosperity, we are always used to taking the present road with memories, and then at a casual moment, we suddenly think of the past dribs and drabs.

Sometimes, we wonder what we have done, at least for ourselves, with the passage of time, but sometimes we can't find the direction. The pace of youth goes too fast, and time passes day by day. Slowly, that step by step became a big step, and time passed year by year. So, what about ten or twenty years later? What did you think? Is the pace of youth too fast? We are in no hurry to run, so we are taken far by time ... just like flowers in rainy days, they are knocked down by cold rain before enjoying the warmth given by the sun. The residual flower is fleeting and instantly becomes empty. Youth should have a dream, in which there are beautiful flowers and sad flowers.

If the residual flowers are dreams, the sky will fall and the heart will break. Along the most beautiful scenery on the horizon, the curtains will be quietly closed, and the rain will make people feel heartbroken and full of youth, just like a cloud.

Lead is gone, leaving people with tears.

Walking at a certain intersection in life, looking back, I met a lot of people, all the way forward, all the way to evolution, all the way to flowers, flowers on the road of youth, inadvertently, ending bleak, some people left without saying goodbye, some people will meet, just leave, meet, pass by the scenery to let us know, some things.

Once upon a time, I walked through your rainy season and you passed by my youth. The past events that are still shelved in the deepest memory spread in my mind. Where are the people who cried together when they failed, and who laughed together when they enjoyed success? Do you remember each other's smiles? Say that? Even passers-by who are destined to meet by chance in a certain scene and at a certain time? Then, a smile, a faint greeting: long time no see. Such a simple meeting, at least remember each other, I think, is enough.

After a long time, the lead is gone. After many years, I wander on the edge of memory again. Looking back on those lost years, I may suddenly realize that we laughed together in these lush years. If you have regrets, maybe it's just that you were young and frivolous at that time and didn't know how to cherish them. Flowers fall with the wind, rain is accompanied by clear clouds, passers-by are in a hurry, and we meet again after a long separation, and the passing scenery and past experiences are in our hearts.

Time goes by and time is gentle.

Time is like a fleeting time. Time has aged my hair and face. Who can stand the passage of time, always young and as beautiful as a flower? It's like time flies. Life is only a hundred years, and hair is only a few decades. I am just a dust in the dust, small, gone with the wind, drifting with the flow. This is a kind of freedom I yearn for. The wheel of time has been running for more than 20 years. The cruelty of reality is in front of us. For twenty years, the traces left by time have left old marks on my face, and I can't touch the freedom I want. I can only watch it go away.

Looking back, I saw a childish face playing with a group of children in the dim light. It turned out to be myself when I was a child. Suddenly, I was in tears, innocent, free and laughing. I have a group of friends who often play with me. When I was a child, I was not lonely inside. When I grow up, I suddenly find myself more and more lonely.

Pure white years, like flowers, have gone away, and time can't go back to the past or the beginning, my dear old time, goodbye, past, goodbye, like flowers, goodbye ... In the dream, the petals of memory float back to the past, tell yourself when you were a child, be yourself, and you will get the freedom you want. Don't let the years go by.

Listen to the rain and be silent about the dust.

The past and dreams that can't be returned can only be regarded as memories. The rain outside the window is quietly falling. I listened quietly, listening to the wonderful voice of nature in this world-the sound of rain, as if listening to a story, a sad story, telling the sadness and sorrow of this world. The world of mortals withered like flowers, such as red leaves falling, and could not bear to die.

The dazzling lights don't suit me. Too bright will burn my eyes. I like a quiet life. Soft lights lit up the two sides of time, drank all the vicissitudes of life, endured all the hardships, silently turned around and left. ...

What kind of life do you want? All I want is to wait for the rain to stop and keep silent. ...