Sentimental essay on autumn night

Autumn rain is not as delicate and gentle as spring rain, nor as generous and warm as summer rain, but it is so quiet and elegant. The following is my collection for your reference.

Chapter 1: Stop thinking and encounter an autumn rain.

Autumn rain is falling, and on the road of silence, it is falling flowers. Yu Ye is flying, and the sadness of the journey is embarrassing. However, I broke my previous obsession because of an autumn rain.

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Wandering on a boat, in the rain, I landed on the other side of the lotus, not seeking the fragrance of the lotus, but drowning my last desire for mortal dust. Holding a boat, waving an umbrella and lying drunk in the ripples, how can we be calm in the cool breeze of memory? We will lean on the west window flower until the ancient post station with crisp autumn air. Looking at the fence, tears are broken, and I miss the rain for thousands of years. Choose in an autumn, use cool thin's words to break the once misty eyes, choose in an autumn, use frosted plain paper to bear the once empty memories, choose in an autumn, use blurred melancholy, but dilute the once eventful years. With a gust of autumn wind, follow its footsteps, through ordinary alleys, through the misty rain south of the Yangtze River, and reach the end of the world.

I always wanted to cut an inch of bitter willow leaves, but I ran into them unexpectedly. I always want to feel the memory of parting, but I am in rags. I always want to find an unreal and quiet place, but I am helpless in the misty rain. Accustomed to a person wandering in late autumn, I no longer look forward to the ethereal sky, accustomed to the bleak remnants of the wind and sad fans, I no longer look forward to the old scene of drunkenness, accustomed to the pure sand of lovesickness and heartbroken, and I no longer expect the old friend to remain a stranger. After all, lost to time, behind it is a road of memory that cannot be turned back. Can only be used to commemorate and repent.

Always wandering in a dream that follows the map, it is also true and illusory, and it is also virtual and real. Therefore, an old friend is a stranger and the scenery remains the same. He is used to the rainy spring in the south of the Yangtze River. He loses his way. He is a faint solitary lamp nearby. When it rains, he stays in it all his life, becomes a butterfly and finally blows in the wind. I still have that old scar between my fingers. The only thing I can do is to look at its gradually blurred face and say goodbye softly.

Flowers of the past, accompanied by the rain of memories, people at the end of the road finally waved to themselves, parted ways with tears, and stopped smiling at each other, because we walked in different directions of the road. One day, we were alone in the sun, leaving the tenderness of the oblique wind and finally buried in the fleeting time.

A fascinating song, sleeping in silence, gray sky, obscure words, continuous prosperity. After all, it can't escape the ghosting. Bronze ginkgo can only lengthen the poor pen line, and red paint empty bricks leave marks that should not be left. Tracing back to the source, it is unpredictable to be bound by fate. I would like to shed a thousand words for the disappearance and twist it into pieces forever.

Those fleeting days have faded away the yellow autumn leaves, which makes people feel melancholy. Another autumn rain broke the old marks of clothes pleats, wandered in the empty years and heard the sad and beautiful rhythm. On the Sansheng stone, the chaos of past lives is piled up, cutting a period of quiet time and scattering the dust of life. The best memories are lost in the shower of broken memories and the torrent of air-dried remnants.

The rustling autumn rain washed away the whole incomplete clear autumn.

Chapter II: Autumn Rain

The ancients often said, "It hurts spring and grieves autumn." I have no feeling of hurting spring, but I think green spring is quiet and full of hope. Autumn is different. The weather turns cold, the leaves turn yellow, and the cool breeze makes the sky blue. Flowers have entered a dormant period after swaying freely in hot summer. Autumn belongs to quiet, no restlessness, no publicity, no cold. It just quietly tells its own feelings. Listen, the weak voice of the fallen leaves is that it is sighing, and the weak and piercing voice of the rain is that it is crying.

There has always been an indescribable affection for rain. Autumn rain is different from summer rain. I will always remember the rainy season I spent in my hometown when I was a teenager. Summer in the north is not as humid and hot as that in the south. The sky is always blue, and the sun radiates aggressive and blazing light. But when it rains, it always thunders first, then it gets dark. It began to rain soon. At that time, I liked listening to the rain. Raindrops hit the plum trees on the roof and in the yard. The intermittent voice is as generous as the character of a northerner, which makes me feel very comfortable and enjoy it.

The rain in autumn is different Less hearty, more touching and sad. Cold raindrops fall at dusk, which makes people feel cool and awake. She is clean and cold, as if she can wash away the gloomy and yellow sky. There is such a beautiful and sad scene in the Red Chamber. The pulse of Qiu Lin, rain or shine, the sky is getting darker and earlier. No wonder Lin Daiyu wrote Autumn Window on a Rainy Night from this situation. Reading the Red Chamber always feels that Xiaoxiang Pavilion itself is full of autumn sadness. Maybe it was getting dark that night, and Lin Daiyu sitting by the window felt a little cold. Looking at the autumn rain outside the window and hearing the sound of raindrops hitting bananas, she was even more sad. So he wrote: "I feel that the autumn window is boundless and the wind and rain are bleak." I can't bear to sleep in autumn, so I moved my tears out of Xiang Qiu. "Maybe autumn itself is not sad, but everything is quiet and thin everywhere, so people with a heart will give it sorrow and tell their long-standing sadness and resentment through rain and fallen leaves.

Since autumn is so easy to involve people's sadness, why are there so many literati writing poems and lyrics for autumn? Probably because I am quietly facing the gloom in my heart, listening to the rain is an artistic conception. There is beauty in joy and beauty in loneliness. Loneliness is an artistic conception, just like the feeling brought by autumn, that is, sadness comes from it and cannot be forgotten. No wonder Wang Wei also wrote in The Nightingale on an Autumn Night: "I'm afraid to leave my room." This is different from sister Lin, that is, "mourning for autumn" and "leaving autumn" The charm of autumn is self-evident.

It's autumn again, but in this rainy Central Plains, I can't feel the continuous autumn rain. I miss the hearty rain in my hometown, and I also want to beat bananas in the Xiaoxiang Pavilion. Autumn and rainy days are strong feelings that I can't give up in my heart. I put it in the cool breeze of the dark moonless sky, and I put it in the fallen leaves when I was walking under the buttonwood tree. Autumn is a time for me to indulge my emotions. She carries too many memories. In this season, I feel not only autumn, but also those indelible past memories. They are put in a place only I know.

Chapter 3: Autumn rain in winter

Author: cold and warm life

The rain in Ruicheng has been raining since the night of winter. It rains day and night, as if there is malice.

After the winter in the north began, the rain was colder than before, hitting the leafy branches. It was a scratching noise, and the wind bending the treetops was extremely biting. People often wrap raincoats around thick winter clothes, so the rain at this time is called winter rain.

At this time, the rain in Ruicheng is different from that in the north, because it is winter rain in a warm country. Although it is later than the beginning of winter, it is very similar to the autumn rain in the north. It landed on the leaves of Cui Mo, making a rustling sound. There was no wind, but it just quietly and slowly fell to the ground. Overhead has always been gray, and occasionally a few dark clouds float low, and from time to time they are ferocious, and the sky smells dirty and dry.

The night is the hardest. When all the noise disappeared, the bleak raindrops hit the colored steel tiles. The noise is particularly harsh and terrible, which makes me very lonely. Almost deliberately counting the sound of raindrops, perhaps to remind me that I have something to hand in in the morning, and I must not delay it. A sleepless night.

It was still dark in the morning, and the rain was still falling slowly. I put on my raincoat, rode on a bicycle that was washed clean by the rain and exposed the gray cement road, and went to the factory where I worked for a salary.

Several workmates who arrived earlier than me stood in the unhurried rain and couldn't hold their umbrellas. The relentless autumn rain poured down, and the three of them kept talking. The more people gather, the more people in our factory, the people outside the factory, and the bystanders are all talking and waiting in clusters. ...

The factory door finally opened a crack, squeezed out a head that was cold and rainy, stared at the wage earners like a dead fish and shouted: "The economic situation is not very good this year, and the factory lost a lot. There is no way out. We can't make a commitment to the previous one. The boss said that we would give some compensation, so I hope everyone can understand. " The boss's servant dropped these bullshit, which made people understand more. Don't talk about honesty at all, do you still respect being a man? Let the boss come out and give us an explanation. "Several women workers are still sobbing." Our family lives on these few dollars. How can we live? " The onlookers also whispered, "Black! It's dark! The world has indeed changed. " "Is there an honest boss in this world?" "Some people say that every pore of capital is full of blood and tears! It seems that this is true. "Roaring, crying, condemnation and autumn rain are intertwined. At that time, the whole sky was filled with sadness and anger.

The whole morning's * * * finally shocked the government. A chubby head leaned out of the car and casually shouted to the crowd, "Excuse me, I have something to discuss." When I looked back, I knew that the official had arrived, and the crowd seemed to have raised a glimmer of hope and suddenly became restless. Just now, the boss's dark cloud-like face was torn open by her, dragging his fat head into the factory office. After selling it for a while, Fat Head announced bureaucratically that "it's all over. The agreement between you and your boss is oral and has no legal effect. The labor bureau can't guarantee your appeal. Let the boss try to compensate you. " At this time, the boss's ferocious face suddenly hung with a treacherous smile, but the workers looked at a loss, such as cold rain.

The rain is still falling slowly, which seems to add a little coolness in malice, wetting the workers' light clothes and ruining their expectations. Some people began to tremble, and some people began to tremble, shaking the earth here! However, after all, it is the grassroots, a group of helpless migrant workers, how dare they have the same expectations? All these demands, all these struggles, will eventually be washed away by this ruthless autumn rain, just like this cement road is as clean as gray.

The rain is still falling slowly. Somehow, looking at this continuous autumn rain and the tears of desperate women workers, I suddenly felt that this autumn rain was no longer hateful, and I was sad. Hey! This warm winter rain, this hateful world, this evil ...