Last night, a little cold rain in the starry sky, with shy snowflakes, quietly descended in the arms of the small plateau town.
This morning, a bitter and hard gust of west wind, wrapped in a ray of haze, obscuring the eyes of the small town and polluting the colors of the mountain village.
The rain last night changed from the torrential crackling momentum, falling gently, silently coming and coloring. When the night falls, in the dim lights, in the courtyard with the thin green forest, it feels like it is not rain, but hazy and damp fog, a dream that looks like a real or a illusion, and a feeling of indecisiveness.
The rain last night, why did you change your past appearance, change your clothes quickly, and dance gently, and dance white flowers. You are too impatient! Before we could say goodbye to the Liujin Dicui and others, we quickly turned into nine heavens of snow, creating a wonderful moment.
The rain last night, you are snow, and you are also meteor shower , are you saying goodbye to the encounter or returning as scheduled. You have the love of autumn, but more of the bleakness of early winter. With the flowers in your tenderness, after you have been comforted overnight, I have been baptized by coldness, and have her smiley faces, tightened my figure, and hurriedly lowered my beautiful head in the cold wind this morning.
I don’t blame you. Last night’s rain was the seasonal wind, the urging of the season, which made you change your face and make you change your color. With a gorgeous turn, you lost yourself, but changed the world.
I don’t blame you. Last night’s rain, your hasty transformation, not everything will be silently impressed. There is also the Gesang flower that moved you, straightening her back; September chrysanthemum , lifting her figure. They always look up to their cheeks, because of your patronage, wipe a thin layer of light makeup, slightly white in pink, and simple in brightness. It is calm and strong.
whose season is this? This is a colorful season, a season of laziness and a sentimental season.
whose color is this? This is the color of fire and the breeding ground of ice; it is the golden world and the germination of gray.
In this world, there is no absolute season or pure color, only relative existence and objective existence, and there is never an absolute distinction between nature and statutory. What is deliberately defined is often the eyes and thoughts of people.
The old place - on the Zhuanglang River, I have witnessed your rich face in midsummer. Today, I have also dressed up your lush and dyed river bank poplar trees , took off the ink-colored green, and neatly changed into a touch of golden yellow.
's inherent river bank - the spiritual station, I have felt your warm and comfortable embrace. Today, I seem to see another color, the saddest color in the world, it is not the green like jade and dreams, but the dark gray that is deeper, darker and far-fetched than the green. It is the color of waiting, the final color, and the color that is more heartbreaking than the past.
This season has the same color as fire, the same temperature as fire, and the same passion as fire. It is indeed a season that is easy to be sentimental, to have thoughts, and to experience silently. This season belongs to nature, time and space, and also to us. In such a season, a person who is alone often thinks wildly and is dazed. The colorful colors of this season contain the wisdom of life, and the strength of firmness is accumulated in plainness and peace. This season is beautiful and helpless!
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