China Naming Network - Baby naming - Looking for some lyrical compositions about scenes for the first year of high school, 700 words!

Looking for some lyrical compositions about scenes for the first year of high school, 700 words!

It’s raining again. I remember, when the rain fell last year, I asked you, would you like to write an article for you?

You smile and say, OK, I really hope to see myself appear in Yan Yan’s article.

And later, no, there is no later, only the past and the present.

When the rain falls again, time has passed a year, and you and I are no longer strangers. Looking at the non-stop rain outside the window, I think of the old me and you. It's so familiar yet so out of reach.

It turns out that there was only a long season of rain between the past and the present.

Learn to be strong.

It’s just that I’m not strong at all now. I thought that after going through an autumn, I would be much stronger, but when I stand in the winter and see the dead branches all over the street, I always inadvertently think of the same rainy winter, the same withered yellow streets, and the same yellow trees walking on the streets. Myself in the winter rain. Suddenly I began to wonder why people always have to go back to memories?

Are you afraid to face the present and look forward to the future?

I have to learn to be strong, but I have never been able to learn it. The Yanyan in your eyes was full of confidence at the beginning, but now, it is just the Yanyan now. If I don’t learn to be strong, I will no longer be the same confident as before. Full.

How could this happen? Did I forget you or did I forget myself?

It doesn’t matter what others think, what matters is what you think.

So, am I thinking too much? Or am I not seeing myself clearly?

It rains again. After a few days of overcast winter, it starts to rain, and the mood begins to lose its season:

Familiar scenery, familiar people, familiar things, But now it has become "once".

Today, when I walk through here, I am just a passer-by, just a passer-by.

I stretched out my hand, but the dust fell off my hand. I smiled, turned and left.

You shouldn’t look for memories in the rainy winter, just like when I stubbornly left: the originally sunny evening suddenly started to rain.

When I turned around and left, dust was destined to fall on it, right?

Today after pressing the four numbers, the door actually opened. I stretched out my hand, but brushed off a dust from the painting next to the door. I turned around and left, looking at the door. The door opened, I could only turn around and leave, and the door slowly closed behind me. What was closed was also my memory of 2007, about an unfinished autumn and the sudden floating in the autumn. That evening rain.

But after that rain, there was less rain in the sky, and the rain became autumn in my eyes.

After walking through a whole autumn, we have come to the winter of rain again. Just like last year, it is another winter of rain. But, I don’t know, in this same rainy and cold winter In winter, will I, should I still look forward to a sunny day with all my heart, and will I be able to see myself clearly in the memory across the rain? And then go back to the little bit of confidence you had at the beginning?

The rain is falling and the autumn wind is blowing gently. The lotus pond behind the yard has long lost the bustle of the past, the insects are no longer chirping, and there are fewer birds. Occasionally, you can see fish jumping to the water. The lotus has withered long ago, and the dry lotus branches are like the skinny old man still standing in the water. The willow trees on the shore have no green leaves anymore, and one or two dead leaves fall from time to time. I don’t know who blows off the dead leaves. The autumn wind in October is like scissors. In the miserable rain and cold wind, how much prosperity is like a dream, once colorful, gone with the wind. Suddenly looking back, like a cloud of smoke. I don’t know when midsummer has left me. The elegant fragrance of flowers and the sound of the heavy rain hitting the lotus leaves have all gone. The rain gradually becomes heavier, like fog, thick or light. The rain in autumn is not as intense as the rain in summer. It is as light as gauze, covering your eyes. It is as light as smoke, leaving you smellless and tasteless. I couldn't see the road ahead clearly, so I could only walk slowly along the pond. The lush green grass in the past became bare under the trampling, and the rain covered it, making it a bit slippery to walk on. The drizzle is gently blowing on the lotus leaves, like silkworms eating mulberry leaves. It is rustling, sometimes tight, sometimes soothing, and like a beautiful piece of music. I lament that nature has created such beautiful music.

The drizzle is still falling, just like life always makes people haggard, from the lush lotus leaves to the skinny dead branches, from the stormy summer to the dead branches and leaves in the autumn. We have to go through the cold winter with heavy snowfall, but the beating heart of the tree is still there, and when the lotus flowers are in full bloom, the sound of rain is still there. It can withstand storms and cold winters. "It comes out of the mud but not stained, it clears the ripples without being evil, it is straight from the middle to the outside, it does not creep or branch, the fragrance is clear from afar, the pavilion is planted quietly, you can look at it from a distance but not play with it." When we look back on the past, we may think in our hearts More or less melancholy, some frustration, some souvenir. Life is a drama, full of joys and sorrows, ups and downs. When we often think about the past, we also often imagine the future. After many years, we will also grow old. When all hope fades away with the end of life, will there be any regrets? The journey of life is not smooth sailing, there are successes and joys, failures and sorrows. If we have a beating heart that still exists, then we will eventually be able to go through the autumn with dead branches and fallen leaves, through the cold winter with heavy snow, and still see the lotus flowers in full bloom.

Imagine the sound of raindrops on the eaves in the snow, imagine walking in the rain holding a small flower umbrella, imagine holding a small plastic book folder in the rain. Ben, what a wonderful feeling.

In winter, the memory of rain is intermittent, like spliced shots without continuity. Tonight, it came suddenly without any premonition or reason, piercing me and reminding me of some hidden truths and some new illusions from afar.

Due to sowing, there are few idle farmers in the spring, and the streets and shopping malls in the town are much deserted.

The spring rain in the northern town comes cautiously in people's expectations.

It was hazy at first, as if just waking up from a light sleep, yawning and thinking about the vague dream. The brown fields that had been dry all winter and looked noisy and restless breathed a moist smell. The rain seemed to let out a long breath of fragrance. This fragrance curled through the dry and hard stone streets in the north, and came to the door of the small grocery store with colorful signs in the town. Someone poked his head out, and then Shouting loudly: "The rain is coming! The rain is coming!"

In the quiet alley, there was the sound of the door opening, the sound of footsteps, and the noisy greetings.

In the drizzle, farmers in twos and threes were bent over and busy. This drizzle could not stop their work, but the rain made them feel relieved.

Putting up the hoe, touching Chaochang's hair, looking up at the sky, I was looking forward to the rain until dusk and late at night.

When the spring rain comes, there are scenes of joy everywhere. In the season of sowing, sowing hope heralds a bountiful harvest.

Looking at the clear joy in the eyes of the elders, one can't help but feel an impulsive emotion in his heart.

The silent spring rain gives people endless warmth.

Xia Yusu is really like a child.

I never hold an umbrella in the rain, just like I never wear sunglasses in the summer.

I like the rain falling straight on me, soaking my arrogant enthusiasm, and pressing my shallow self-satisfaction on the damp ground. I like the rain and ignores the sadness in my mood. I like the rain. Don't blame me for being inexplicably irritable and bitter.

My tears once poured down together with the rain.

It was a summer afternoon.

I received his call.

On the other end of the phone, he said to me in a very calm, calm tone, as if he had practiced it many times: "We are not suitable."

In my memory, that At that moment, it rained the most in my life.

The most suitable boy in my mind told me that we are not suitable.

I was 18 that year.

I stood in the rain for an hour, looking at the green curtains drawn on the window of his dormitory. We had agreed that when the curtains were closed, he would be waiting for me. That day the curtains were closed, I'm not the one waiting.

I watched the green curtains being closed and opened in the rain. I don’t know which girl he is hinting about his love with, I only know that his love no longer belongs to me.

I left the aftertaste of my first love to the torrential rain that afternoon.

The reward from the rain was three days of being bedridden.

Three days later, the rain was still falling tirelessly. I got up and plunged into the rain. I rushed to a barber shop I never went to and got a short haircut. I walked into the dormitory with wet short hair. When he opened the door, he exclaimed: "Mei, you feel so good!"

It’s not just my hair that feels so good, but also my heart. It’s as clear as the sound of a flute in the rain, passing through the confusion of love; it’s like a thin porcelain dish of an orchid that I broke by mistake, blending in the rain. The perfection I imagined in the past made a crisp sound and said goodbye.

How does the autumn rain come quietly?

I sat on the steps of the small village temple covered with decaying grass and waited for it.

I don’t remember how long I waited. I just know that when it came, the soybeans and sorghum were already mature. With eyes full of gold and joy, an old man from a neighboring village came to the small temple with his grandson who had just learned to walk.

The grandfather and grandson were holding a black umbrella together. The handle was broken and the frame was bent in several places, but the old man was still holding it, using it to cover the autumn rain.

There are always some things in the world that people are reluctant to throw away. They may be useless in the eyes of outsiders, but who dares to say that they are not the owner’s lifetime treasures.

The old gentleman was holding a broken umbrella. He wanted to bring his grandson to see the small temple. No, he wanted to come and study at the small temple. However, the little grandson was running around in the courtyard of the small temple naughtily. Go, he marvels at every plant and tree here, and the novelty of the small temple is different from the antiquity and secludedness of the tall buildings on Kuan Street.

The old gentleman followed behind holding a shabby black umbrella. As I looked at it, I felt that the old gentleman was like the ancient Chinese characters engraved on the stone tablet in front of the small temple, which made me unfamiliar but eager to read; the little grandson looked like the willows that had just come to life in front of the temple, full of life and vitality, which made me feel alive. Desire.

Across the autumn rain and the mournful decaying grass, I seemed to squeeze out from the door of a thousand-year-old temple with peeling paint, stroking my non-existent beard and looking at an old man in the autumn rain. A young man was spinning around on the stone bricks soaked by the autumn rain.

What a wonderful connection there is between the ancient temple, autumn rain, the old man, and the child.

The black umbrella swinging in the air cannot keep up with the child's footsteps. His feet are going to walk out of this ancient temple and this ancient town. He may not remember this old umbrella, but I believe it. , he will remember this autumn rain, remember that he once staggered in this autumn rain, smelling the fragrance of grain and looking at the past.

The cool autumn rain will give him some memories that will never be lost in his consciousness.

I cannot deny the real presence of rain in my memory.

I raised my head and breathed. The rain falling on my face made me think of a feeling.

I hesitated to say anything, the rain finally lost a season of existence, I found a reason for my dullness

The season of plum rain has arrived again , the boundless wilderness in the south of the Yangtze River is completely shrouded in the smoke woven by worries. This scene cannot help but remind us of that year when we were still very young and fantasized about riding bamboo horses to find the prince and princess in our hearts. Lost in a continuous tea forest, I almost couldn't return home. Fortunately, there seemed to be the pulling of God and the guidance of heaven. After walking through several circles in the forest, we finally went down to the other end of the mountain and met our relatives who were looking for us. Only then did I realize that every boy and girl in the world can walk into that distant legend.

Today, I have long passed the age of dreaming, but I still can’t get rid of my sentimental character. I also like to think about some thoughts that are very inappropriate for my age in the empty plum rain, and imagine painting a landscape of walking in the snow in search of plum blossoms. In the picture, there is a still young him and her, both wearing a long white scarf. He smiled and softly chanted the sentence "The plum blossoms are three cents white", and she immediately followed up with a smile, "The snow is only three cents white." fragrant". Then, they held hands and left Mei Shu with two figures in love. In the snow, two lines of shallow footprints appeared, extending into the distance.

I was sketching out the fictitious plot under the eaves, and my naughty little daughter stretched out her two little hands from behind and hugged my fat waist: "Haha! Mom, you are fat again!" I was pulled back to reality by the childish words. Entering the room, I began to look at the "exactly the same" "me" in front of the mirror: the skin was no longer smooth and white, the waist was no longer slim and slender, and the eyes were no longer bright and shiny. ^^^^^^Beauty has long been with me. No chance!

So, I couldn’t help but think of you, whom I haven’t seen for a long time, who once liked to call me “pig head” and “fool”! You must have been a husband and a father, right? Do you still remember the nicknames "Pig Tail" and "Idiot" that I also gave you? That was when you kept chasing me and laughing at me as "Pig Head, Pig Head" and "Fool, Fool", and I yelled it out to you out of anger. . I still remember that you were stunned for a moment, but you were not angry. You just shook your head and made a helpless "pause" gesture at me to express peace. I proudly let you go, and I have captured your weak point from now on: if you call me a fool again, I will call you a fool; if you call me a pig head, I will call you a pig tail. The mirror in front of me seems to be mocking me. I am really fat and have turned into a "pig head" or a "fool"! In the face of the two-in-one of time and life, no one can escape the changes of nature.

It is said that romance is the preserve of young people or a luxury for the rich, but I am neither young nor rich. I just like to think about the past events that have passed away with the years and the dreams that grow like mist in every rainy season. That's all! There is a plum rain in my heart that does not seem to fade away with age. Let it fall, fall on my sentimental life.

It is the season of plum rain again, and the boundless wilderness in the south of the Yangtze River is completely shrouded in the smoke woven by worries. This situation makes people think of us that year. They were all still very young, and they fantasized about riding a bamboo horse to find the prince and princess in their hearts, but they got lost in a continuous tea forest and almost couldn't return home. Fortunately, there seemed to be the pulling of God and the guidance of heaven. After walking through several circles in the forest, we finally went down to the other end of the mountain and met our relatives who were looking for us. Only then did I realize that every boy and girl in the world can walk into that distant legend.

Today, I have long passed the age of dreaming, but I still can’t get rid of my sentimental character. I also like to think about some thoughts that are extremely inappropriate for my age in the empty plum rain, and imagine painting a landscape of walking in the snow in search of plum blossoms. In the picture, there is a still young him and her, both wearing a long white scarf. He smiled and softly chanted the sentence "The plum blossoms are three cents white", and she immediately followed up with a smile, "The snow is only three cents white." fragrant". Then, they held hands and left Mei Shu with two figures in love. In the snow, two lines of shallow footprints appeared, extending into the distance. I was sketching out the fictitious plot under the eaves, and my naughty little daughter stretched out her two little hands from behind and hugged my fat waist: "Haha! Mom, you are fat again!" I was pulled back to reality by the childish words. Entering the room, I began to look at the "exactly the same" "me" in front of the mirror: the skin was no longer smooth and white, the waist was no longer slim and slender, and the eyes were no longer bright and shiny. ^^^^^^Beauty has long been with me. No chance!

It is said that romance is the preserve of young people or a luxury of the rich, but I am neither young nor rich. I just like to think about the past events that have passed away with the years and the dreams that grow like mist and rain in every rainy season. That's all! There is a plum rain in my heart that does not seem to fade away with age. Let it fall, fall on my sentimental life.

Finally, another long-lost autumn rain has arrived. It felt chilly last night, and I slept soundly all night.

After cleaning up the house in the morning, Yan and his daughter went to the vegetable market. I made dumplings for Jun and his children today, and he kept making comments, saying that Yan didn't take cooking seriously since he became addicted to the Internet. Haha, is it a bit unfair?

Recently, I found out that my daughter eats well because she refused to buy snacks in large and small bags for her. You all agree, haha!

Yan’s daughter has never been able to eat well. In order to let her eat well, Yan is happy for her daughter to bring her good friends to the house for dinner and to have a competition or something. hehe!

Today I invited a chubby girl from the yard. My daughter was very happy. Her appetite increased from ten dumplings to fourteen, haha! It’s really hard work for a mother to study this!

After finishing my "job", because it was a bit cold outside and too lazy to go out, I crawled online again and read my friends' diaries every day. This has become an essential part of the day, both Increase knowledge and feel happy.

Jun went to the office to work overtime, while his daughter was watching cartoons, and Yan was randomly feeling the "mouse mood" by himself.

My heart feels unusually restless...

On a rainy day, another autumn rain brings coolness to people, but sometimes it also changes people's mood.

Yan likes rain and all words related to rain, especially Dai Wangshu's "Rain Alley", that charming girl like lilac.

Suddenly I had the urge to go for a walk in the rain. I walked out of the house, covered myself under an umbrella in the rain, and walked aimlessly alone. A leaf fell, fluttering and falling with the rain. At Liao Yan's feet...

A fallen leaf reminded Yan of the constant image that had stayed in his heart for a long time: a girl holding a dandelion, puffing up her cheeks, With a gentle blow, dreams fly to the end of the world...

Yan likes dandelions very much, likes its ordinaryness, likes its light yellow flowers, like a chrysanthemum-like charm, likes her natural growth in the fields, It is never comparable to any flowers, standing proudly between heaven and earth... You can also wander around the world as you like, and live endlessly when you meet the soil...

Yan suddenly felt that his whole body suddenly turned into a flying particle. The rain was like the dandelions flying all over the sky, light and fluttering, flying alone in the air, alone, with only the wind accompanying her on her journey. In the dark night, Yan found that she was still lost, and still couldn't get out of the clutches of the wind...< /p>

Yan floated to the top of a mountain. In a trance, a young girl walked up the mountain path. She had braids, a red homespun shirt, dark green checkered trousers, and a basket on her shoulder. Garlands of dreams were placed, and the child was surrounded by butterflies and enveloped in the fragrance of flowers... On the mountain road, he waved to Yan Yingying and smiled slightly at Yan.

This smile seemed to have been seen there before. When, Yan began to think hard and silently.

When Yan heard the wind, he actually let out a heavy sigh...

The curtain of his heart was slowly opened, and an image emerged in Yan's mind, and Yan suddenly remembered that long-ago memory. On the same night filled with autumn rain, she recalled this hearty, trendy, stubborn, and sentimental girl... She was the one who could calmly express her thoughts in writing. Although she was young, she was slightly mature, and at the same time She also has the kind of boldness and righteousness that ordinary girls don't have. When she encounters many trivial matters in life, she is able to seriously examine herself, make decisions, and get out of confusion!

Yan smiled bitterly. She actually hadn't remembered this person for a long time. Life had made her so forgetful. Maybe her life was too monotonous and empty! She suddenly felt that all the garlands in the basket seemed so out of reach!

Yan closed his eyes and felt a bit of coolness, whether it was rain or tears. Yan didn’t know. Yan suddenly felt very sad. Yan, who had always lived in romance, felt that since he stepped into the besieged city, he felt a sense of coolness. I feel the reality and helplessness of life! Even if she has a very warm home, even if she lives a very comfortable life! But when doing research, I often feel that something is missing?

Life is like the water of a small river, and Yan is like a small stone by the river, which has been polished and washed away by time. After 8 years of marriage, Yan spends every day in extremely simple repetitions. However, there were no waves in my heart, as calm as a mirror. Yan always clung to this tranquility... Yan had never and was unwilling to look into the distance. Yan's heart was full of helplessness and sadness, even though everyone knew that Yan was actually a very good person. A person with personality...

In the rain, Yan thought of so many memories of his childhood and youth, his classmates in high school, and Ling. Yan really sighed and admired Ling's persistence and courage. , decisiveness and resilience, she was able to leave her young child and that man behind and go to the outside world alone...

Yan, Rong, Hong and Ling were "best friends" in high school. , now the three of them are living at home, only Ling always makes people guess and surprise. In the QQ group, Yan, Rong and Hong are often a little puzzled, and always repeat the same question to Ling: "I don't think about the old man either." , child?" Ling always said: "You have to make choices for life!" Yan didn't know how Ling was doing in the south? Yan just admires Ling for being able to walk out of the house and walk towards her goal! Choose the life you want!

Yan cannot do these things and will never be able to do them. Yan loves her family too much and cannot leave her children. Yan knows that home is everything she has. She protects this warm harbor and at the same time also I lost myself here...

Today's Yan is just an extremely ordinary woman, perhaps a very poor woman. She doesn't even have a decent job. What's even more sad is that she actually Don’t know what you can and should do? She fell into a chaotic daze for a time. She couldn't say that she was overly happy, nor could she say how much sadness? There is no way to talk about a meaningful life? There is often a blank sheet of paper in my mind, with no color at all... The most terrifying thing is that Yan actually closes himself off, often locking himself in a door... Yan enjoys loneliness and loneliness in his own space, and gradually becomes more and more integrated with the advancing society. The further away. Yan often wakes up in his dreams, and often has strange dreams... Yan doesn't know if he needs to test his psychology?

Yan also understands that time is actually the most ruthless and practical thing. It always ignores anyone’s emotions and joys, and passes by you quietly and unhurriedly, in a hurry and in a trance. Thirty years have passed, and Yan is carefully calculating, how many decades will there be in a person's life?

Yan has always thought that he is living a meaningful and happy life, but some past events often cannot withstand scrutiny. Yan feels that there are many things that he has never seriously thought about, let alone a goal. It was far from ideal, and Yan suddenly realized that he had wasted a lot of precious time! This discovery makes Yan somewhat heartbroken!

Jun also often reminds Yan to think about the future, or in other words, to ask Yan to find a more meaningful life and break away from the role of a housewife.

Now that the child is older, it’s time for Kenya to live his true self!

Three years ago, Yan also found a job that he loved. However, after running it for more than a year, it gradually came to an end. Yan suddenly felt that his own strength was like that. It was insignificant, and then Yan also discovered many shortcomings in himself, such as his inner impetuousness and inner shallowness! Another example is the lack of patience and perseverance to do things!

Yan is like a person walking in the dark night and cold rain, stepping on a lot of mud, but her eyes are more lost in the lines of the rain. Yan doesn’t know what she is looking for, let alone what she is looking for. She knew clearly what was waiting for her in the distance. She was just looking for her goal with hopes and desires one after another. She didn't know how long such days would last, and she didn't know whether she had become the most beautiful person in the world. The sad type?

Yan sometimes thinks, maybe, she is a person who doesn’t know what she should do in her life? Perhaps, she can only be a mediocre little family woman, living her ordinary life around the stove, around her beloved husband and daughter...

Even so, Yan Xiang , she will still live a very serious and loving life. This is at least a minimum responsibility for her own life and a minimum due attitude towards life, right?

Even so, Yan still longs to do something he likes and hopes to do it decently. Because I know that for people, the endless thoughts in the heart are the direction, and the specific actions are the driving force. There is no need to dwell on the past and feel sorry for yourself. That will only end with a short attack and achieve nothing. The most important thing that should not be forgotten is Give full play to your own strengths, that is the lubricant for progress. You can't have too many worries and hesitations in life. Success and failure are just a relative state. The important thing is to choose a fulfilling life and constantly discover yourself and surpass yourself on the road. , perfect yourself.

I understand that people are actually the carrier of contradictions. They often have two sides, one is self-esteem and the other is inferiority. This is always the existence of contradictions in people's hearts. People can escape many things, but they cannot Run away from yourself! The road has to be walked, and the days have to move forward. Everything needs someone to pay. There are many helpless things in life. People have to admit the difficulty of life, but the attitude towards life should always be self-improvement...

Yan knows that any kind of result will be like this drizzle in the sky. It will always come when it should come. Yan also hopes that he can be like this rain, flowing naturally, living naturally, and living naturally. Treat everything that life has given to you...

Yan continued to walk forward in the rain in confusion, looking back into the distance, he saw a fallen leaf, a side of autumn water, and lying quietly in the arms of autumn.

The sound of rain hits the umbrella cover, and the crisp melody is like a folk song flowing in the bottom of Yan's heart. The raindrops fly into Yan's eyelids and block Yan's sight along the eyelashes. Although Yan can't see the road ahead clearly, Yan Yan can't see clearly. Know that as long as you still retain the simplicity, sincerity and simplicity of youth in your heart, as long as there is hope in your heart, you will always find the place where dreams begin...

Jiangnan's Misty rain is a rendering in ink painting, which penetrates layer by layer without accumulating. Looking at the rain in the south of the Yangtze River is like admiring the ink paintings of Bada Shanren with lofty artistic conception. Bathing in the misty rain in the south of the Yangtze River, one is immersed in Huang Binhong's landscape.

The misty rain in the south of the Yangtze River is a magical colorful pen. In the cold spring season, it will light up the golden willows on the bank of the green river and let them be covered with hazy green gauze, so that they can be like the sunset. bride. The misty rain in the south of the Yangtze River, when spring is in full swing, reminds people who roll up the curtains, look at the green, fat, red and thin, don't teach them to break branches without flowers, which is a waste of good time.

The misty rain in the south of the Yangtze River is full of poetry and painting. Sometimes it is as thin as a light cow hair, sometimes as thin as the mist rising from the lake in autumn and winter, but the rain of apricot blossoms that wet your clothes is so moist in the willow wind blowing on your face, as moist as a hot field. Jade is as moist as egg white, so moist that it will make your heart enchant. Look, the misty rain in the south of the Yangtze River is on the branches of red apricots in spring, in the coir raincoat under the farmer's bamboo hat, and in the green and fragrant tips of the sky.

The misty rain in the south of the Yangtze River is full of affection, care and affection. Only in the mist and rain in the south of the Yangtze River can the poem "Eighteen Miles Farewell" of Butterfly Lovers be performed. Only in the rain in the south of the Yangtze River can there be the eternal masterpiece "The Hairpin Head Phoenix" that makes people sigh. Only in the rain in the south of the Yangtze River can the love of love be expressed. Only when the peach blossom pond is thousands of feet deep can there be the apricot yellow wine flag swaying in the mist and rain, and the shepherd boy's piccolo in the mist and rain.

O misty rain in the south of the Yangtze River, how many talents and beauties have you given birth to? You are so sad. The mottled bamboos in Junshan are your tears. Ehuang and Nvying are the incarnations of your elves. How many towers in the mist and rain are the red threads you hold hands with for the people you love.

I will look for you in the green and blue river, follow your footsteps in the quiet paths of the bamboo forest, and listen to your voice in the government office. This voice contains the true feelings of the world.

The misty rain in Jiangnan is the fairy dew that God has sprinkled on the world. Here there is no more intrigue in the shopping malls, no more intrigues in the officialdom, no more vulgarity and stupidity in the market, no more nouveau riche. There is no more sadness for those who are arrogant and have nothing to eat. Wandering in the mist and rain in the south of the Yangtze River, you will no longer have the fatigue in life, and you will feel the slanting light and the long flowing water of this paradise

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