Poem: listen to the rain song upstairs. The candle is dim. Listen to the rain in the boat. The river is broad and the clouds are low. The wild geese are called the west wind. Now listen to the rain monk. The sideburns are already starry. Joys and sorrows are always heartless. Every step forward, every drop till dawn.
BY Jiang Jie, Song Dynasty
It's been a week since I came to the empty campus alone. There are no birds in the huge campus. This time of the past year should have started school. The night before yesterday, when I got up to have a brief explanation, a full moon was hanging on the courtyard wall. After careful consideration, it turned out to be the 16th day of the first month.
This dormant Spring Festival has no idea of time. Everything is no longer what it used to be. The couplets on the wall are a little red under the gloomy sky.
After childhood, I became more and more indifferent to the concept of home. Whether in my hometown or in a distant Inn, I could sleep with a bed. Sometimes, I also enjoy the feeling of wandering.
No matter in the workhouse beside Namuco lake, or in the yurt of Sayram Lake Kazak, far away from home, with the story of others, holding the starry night sky, I enjoy that feeling very much.
Last night, there was a sudden rush out of the window. Push open the door and see if it really rained. It should be the first spring rain. Just after the beginning of spring, the rain can't wait to come. And this time, it will drop into the sky.
I always like listening to the rain, especially in the quiet night, listening to the boundless sound of the rain, especially the quiet, as if the whole world has been handed over to the rain solo, in such a rainy night, I will feel a lot of feelings.
When the boy listened to the rain, there was the green color of wafei. At that time, we could hear the sound of bamboo shoots plucking. Everything was booming. Listening to the rain, it seemed that we could hear the spring tide on the riverbed;
Youth, there are marshes and dreams, in the years of hormone burning, listen to the rain, as if the footsteps of my sweetheart rustle;
Now in middle age, although there is no sadness of Jiang Jie, a poet of Song Dynasty, some feelings are similar.
In his prime, when listening to the rain, the river is wide and the clouds are low. The wild geese are called the west wind
Tonight, am I in the rain? As if the crackling rain was on the roof of the awning boat, I seemed to be in the middle of the Yangtze River, on both sides of the Han River. Among the colorful clouds of the White Emperor, a thousand li of Jiangling was returned in a day. The boat passed thousands of mountains with apes shouting without endless. Can I really do it? Can I sail across the Han River with a leaf full of sorrow and resentment?
I think I can't do it! Wuhan has my friends, my compatriots, and civilian heroes like the deceased Doctor Li! The times will have memories, I will, I believe many Chinese will.
I have always thought that the present time is the autumn of my life and the most beautiful time of my life. In such a time, I have a lot of wealth in life, including a state-owned family and a world.
In this autumn, there is a high sky, poetry and distance, and the most gorgeous autumn color. I can freely dance in the cool autumn wind. I can write love poems with flying ginkgo leaves, I can be passionate, I can also sing in a low voice
However, in the spring of gengzi, the people died, and Wuhan suffered. It was sad to hear the rain! Sorrow and joy are always heartless. Every step of the way comes to the dawn
The night Doctor Li left, the whole network held a memorial ceremony, so did I. Maybe, we are all worried about whether all the truth and bravery, like him, will emerge as immortals and go to heaven
I believe that the Chinese nation will not give up. In the boundless night and the rain patter, all the rebellious travelers let us see the endless hope of Chinese children!
There is Zhong Nanshan in the front and Li Wenliang in the back. We will have more latecomers, the evil spirits and the monsters will change forever!
After the disaster, may our world be a little more free and courageous, so that we can breathe and sing happily in the field of our hometown; let us turn the chapter of the times, and still stand on the hillock to overlook the spring and the distance!
Late night in Feb 13 2020 Written by WuQiong
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