Bamboo forest listening to rain prose

Bamboo Listening to Rain Prose 1 Bamboo Listening to Rain

The wind is slightly cold, the rain is falling, and the touch of the season is slightly cool. Oh, autumn is coming. There is a feeling in my heart that this poem did not belong to the noisy world, but to the quiet green bamboo.

Riding with a little elegance and comfort, I strolled to my pocket-sized "bamboo villa", which was silent at the foot of the mountain independently, and only the gurgling stream knew its existence. It's a small bamboo building with an exquisite yard. There is a bamboo rocking chair in the yard, waiting quietly for its owner. From a distance, my little bamboo building seems to lack the charm and agility of Li Lewei's "castle in the air", but it is a little more quiet and elegant than Liu Yuxi's "humble room".

I like the feeling of sitting in front of a bamboo house on a rainy day, holding a pot of fragrant tea, and the smoke from the kitchen is curled up and the fragrance is faint. It must be bamboo leaf green. In the silence, you seem to feel the sound of rain beating on the roof repaired by bamboo sticks. It sometimes decomposes and sometimes merges, and then merges into a bead, which slips off the roof and hits the bamboo ware under the eaves, as crisp as a bang. Looking up, a wisp of mountain wind passed by, bamboo fences flashed by, green waves rippled slightly, and rain gently slipped between bamboo leaves. I heard the voice of Bai Juyi's "Guan Ying's words are slippery", and the realm of "silence is better than sound" is probably here. Rain in Mao Mao sometimes gathers together to form a big raindrop and hits the leaves. This sound makes you "want to hear the voice of Yue Xian for a while", but the leaves seem to feel that they can't bear the weight of life, so they lower their heads and give the raindrops to the earth.

Listening to the rain around the bamboo fence is also wonderful, and the bamboo hat is not needed, so let yourself blend into the bamboo forest and listen to the drizzle. Conveniently caressing bamboo, the flexibility of bamboo slips passes through your fingers, pulling a bamboo leaf to smell it, and the faint bamboo fragrance is refreshing. Looking closely, the wind dances with bamboo, and the rain is a string; Raise your eyes and weave in the drizzle, and then you will know the origin of "misty rain". I don't know when, a bamboo leaf falls between my sleeves with several crystal beads on it. I gently picked up the bamboo leaves, but the beads disappeared without a trace.

Listening to the rain in the bamboo forest requires a kind of "whistling slowly" leisure. Strolling by the quiet bamboo forest, if the rain sounds like a song and beats the keys in your heart, there will be calmness and calmness of "no rain." In the complicated world, find a attendant to rest for yourself, and many unbearable tiredness and troubles in life will disappear in an instant with the wind and rain. As long as there is a piece of green in my heart and a curtain of rain, even if there is a slight cold in my life, I will "face the hill obliquely."

Bamboo Forest Listening to Rain Prose 2 Bamboo forest in summer, she is dripping with green, overflowing with green and charming. If at this time, there is a light rain happily falling, listening to the rain in the bamboo forest, listening to the rain in the bamboo forest, what kind of "clouds caress the sun, clear water" will it be?

In windy summer, the wind gently blows through the bamboo forest and also blows my cheeks. Looking at this lush bamboo forest, I am happy and carefree. I broke into this bamboo forest and "fell" into this vibrant and energetic sea of life. Then, this refreshing light rain, staring at it with a smile for a long time, will reappear in the yearning for the sound of bamboo forest. Will you be happy to keep the appointment?

"Idle flowers fall to the ground, and listen to silence. Who does the drizzle wet clothes ask? " A piece of paper passed through the years and fell into the pen and ink, which amused the years and comforted the time. Suddenly, the light rain came as promised. In an instant, the bamboo forest is silent, the river is silent ... the heart is beating, the rain is noisy, the bamboo forest is rustling, and the rain is buzzing. Dripping, refreshing, fragrant and refreshing. Time is shallow, the rain is like cotton, the coolness of the fingertips overlooks the gaze, and the thrill of the heart infiltrates the heart.

Walking on the stone road with drizzle, I always feel that elegant drizzle kisses the coolness of my hair. Mumiao milk smoke, light flow. Perhaps, at this moment, the quiet bamboo forest, accompanied by light rain, lightens the heat and enriches elegance and elegance. So, where does this guest come from and where is he going?

Along this winding path, Tao Ran strolled in this quiet bamboo forest drizzle. "The rain washed Juanjuan, and the wind blew well. "The rain is clever and unreal, and the bamboo is quiet and enchanting. Look, at the moment, the rain is beating gently on the bamboo leaves, and the crystal water drops coincide with the silent rolling and gentleness on the bamboo leaves. The drizzle falls on the bamboo forest and on the branches of bamboo leaves. They appear alternately from east to west and from left to right, which is very lively. Suddenly, the blue rain fell slightly, quietly disappeared and moistened it. Listening to the poetic rain, smelling cool. The sound of bamboo leaves, the sound of raindrops and the continuous drizzle soaked the cool bamboo leaves, but the bamboo leaves carefully cared for the fragrance of nectar. Depression value is strong, cigarette rain. They are lingering in the rain leaves, and the rain beads are accompanied by the flowing Qingxi, stepping on the fine steps and suddenly looking back. Suddenly, this impetuous heart is in this warm and quiet bamboo forest. In this bamboo forest, listening to the drizzle, there is a kind of moist feeling, and the heart becomes clear and clear in the Ming and Qing Dynasties, and the mind is naturally free and free.

Originally, I am waiting for you, and you are waiting for me. The heart is on the other side, and love is on this side. Standing in the forest, the forest is in the rain. The bamboo forest listens to the rain, washes the heart, and the rain hits the bamboo leaves, asking the soul. I have dreamed of it countless times, making my heart beat slowly in this soft and ethereal artistic conception, making my thoughts fly slowly with this lingering sound, then I passed through the heavy fog woven by a curtain of misty rain, and finally I happily grasped the cool rain beads in my heart. But in a hurry, suddenly, there was a breeze in Xulai, and the bamboo branches danced obliquely to clear the shadows, which suddenly shook the leisure troubles of this place and shattered the clouds of condensation dew and dripping green, and this ecstatic dream. It turned out that I was listening to the rain in the bamboo forest, and the bamboo forest secretly appreciated me in the rain. The bamboo forest listens to the rain, rhymes in the rain and sings in the heart.

"Don't listen to the sound of leaves passing through the forest, why don't you walk slowly singing. Bamboo poles and sandals are more dexterous than riding horses. What's to be afraid of? At this moment, I really want to close my eyes quietly, just like listening to my grandmother humming a lullaby, so that my heart can be quiet and comfortable in the bamboo forest and slowly settle in the rain. Or, on the other hand, sing a song and worry less. But in an instant, I was afraid to disturb the cicada hiding from the rain and the sparrow living there. However, things end up like chess, carved indifferently, and clouds roll and clouds are comfortable. Then, why not smell the intoxicating fresh bamboo in the drizzle of the bamboo forest, accompanied by green smoke, elegant and remote, just like a fairy. Listening to the rain in the bamboo forest may be an artistic conception, a yearning, a long-lost tranquility and clarity in the Ming and Qing Dynasties.

Then, as long as we always stick to the green in our hearts, a curtain of rain, and a feeling of indifference and indifference, even if there is a temporary "coolness" in our lives, it will always be "the mountain is crooked but welcoming guests" and will never return. Mermaids shed pearl-like tears in the green ocean, and the situation has changed in recent years. I don't know how many thoughts will be left by the dust in the world. The bamboo forest listens to the rain, the rain cools the bamboo, and the bamboo moistens our hearts. Summer rain whispers, life is like a dream, and life is a little melancholy. Perhaps, between disconsolate already boundless. Some people walk away, and some things fade when they look at them. There is too much nothingness in life, too much anxiety in life, and trapped animals fight with each other, so why? It is best to have a beautiful heart, a beautiful landscape and a long bamboo forest, and spend a quiet time.

Listen to the rain in the bamboo forest, rhyme in the rain, and love in the song. The bamboo forest is whistling, the flowers are dying, the wind is talking, and the rain is disturbing. I was drunk, but you fell asleep. ...

In summer, the bamboo forest is full of freshness in the heat. She is dripping with green, overflowing with green, lightly explaining impetuousness. The gentle wind blew away the heat of the whole body. What about the drizzle? But from time to time it falls in the cool face and ears. Maybe at this time, there will be that noise. who is it? Playing the music of nature, inviting all over the sky in the rain, I have been tirelessly listening to the tall and straight power of bamboo in this drizzle, and my life has never changed?

"The rain wets people's hearts and the wind wakes them up." Looking at this lush bamboo forest, what attitude should we take to penetrate this bustling floating world and find a quiet place for our hearts to inhabit? What kind of music should I write to penetrate my heart and recall my inner purity all the time?

Oh, it turns out that the bamboo forest listens to the rain, there is rhyme in the rain, and there is love in the music. Bamboo should always be in our hearts.

Bamboo grove listening to the rain prose 3 bamboo books are rare in the north, occasionally, and not scattered.

In the past two years, many bamboos have been planted in the gardens along the Weihe River in the town. The summer is lush and beautiful, which makes people easily think of the endless faint bamboo forest beside the stream at the foot of the southern Qingshan Mountain.

In fact, when I was a child, my home was in the southernmost part of the village, and seven or eight steps away from home was a small bamboo forest in the river bend. In summer, bamboo forest has become a good place for friends to enjoy the cool. When it rains, friends kneel on the stone platform under the grass pavilion on the edge of the forest, and all kinds of small people and animals squeezed by the soil resound through the bamboo forest with the laughter of the rain.

However, when I was young, I couldn't recognize thousands of drops of rain. The porcelain in the dream is as delicate and quiet as the porcelain that hits the swaying bamboo leaves. I only remember playing with lovely mud in my hand, looking forward to the dream flower fairy walking through the top of the forest and smiling in the rain.

However, after all, I didn't wait for the long-awaited flower fairy, but my monotonous and happy childhood and adolescence slipped away from the bamboo forest.

I vaguely remember that the rain on bamboo leaves is transparent and gentle. It resounds through the whole bamboo forest, crisp and pleasant.

I vaguely remember the village under the rain curtain, and the smoke from the chimneys of every household curled across the bamboo forest, which seemed quiet and serene in the haze.

Later, I grew up, step by step away from the village, away from the bamboo forest, away from the rustling rain in the bamboo forest. Occasionally, when I pass through a dense bamboo forest, I will suddenly flash some thoughts left in my memory, and the pace of running in the crowd will be more brisk.

Now, after living in the noisy downtown for a long time, I see the depth outside the curtain screen, sleep in the moonlight, and I begin to miss the faint bamboo forest of my childhood. When I miss him deeply, I added a pot of green bamboo to the desk in my cabin. Silent bamboo, standing at the end of May, always looks at it, and its eternal green meaning overflows the hut like water.

That day, when I went to the office of the art department, I saw the painter's colleagues waving ink to draw green bamboo, which was as fresh as the morning wind after rain and very eye-catching. Deep in the bamboo forest, a brown path twists and turns. At that time, I subconsciously took a deep breath, as if to breathe in all the coolness and calmness overflowing from the bamboo.

When my colleagues saw that I was so addicted to this, they got the message and said, "Don't laugh at my poor work." Naturally, under the glass of my desk, it was full, and this bamboo forest was crushed.

And I, from time to time through the glass, stand alone in this forever static bamboo forest, waiting for a rain, and can listen to the rain with me in the bamboo forest.

Surprise is that it always rains outside the window, and the sound of rain seems to fall on the bamboo forest in front of me, like the sound of spring silkworms biting mulberry leaves, crisp and high. I even imagined such an elegant and quiet picture: in a simple thatched cottage or elegant pavilion, a refined man with fine features or a pure talented woman in a plain clothes sat quietly in the deep bamboo forest opposite Qianshan in the rain, playing the piano leisurely, with the same faint eyes, which seemed as intoxicating as stepping on a dream of blue bricks and white tiles.

After listening for a long time, an absurd idea suddenly occurred to me. Maybe there should be Kong Ming. Holding a feather fan and wearing a black ribbon scarf, the man was graceful and intoned, "Twenty miles west of Xiangyang City, Gorkon is surrounded by pillows. Gorkon bends the root of the cloud, and the water flies to the pulp. The bamboo screen is green, and the flowers are fragrant at all times. " He has been there, hasn't he?

The rain has been falling in the corner of the bamboo forest, and there is a lingering comfort in the rustling sound. I keep comforting myself. If it was a rain thousands of years ago, what kind of detachment would this elegant state be? It's just a pity that later Kong Ming, although he once sat in the wind and smoke of time and experienced several storms, although the sparse bamboo forest in Wollongong was dotted with drizzle, the hut could no longer wait for a calm return.

I was disappointed to think of it, and suddenly my eyes lit up. Oh, it's Su Shi, a poet who raised his wine and sang "I'd rather eat without meat than live without bamboo". Listen, the heroic voice all the way, "don't listen to the sound of beating leaves through the forest, why not sing and walk?" Bamboo poles and sandals are more dexterous than riding horses. What's to be afraid of? A misty rain is a lifetime. "How clear!

So, I faded away from fatigue and impetuousness, and drowned myself in the endless bamboo forest. Listening to the sound of rain, I quietly told myself that the bamboo forest, whether it was Kong Ming or Su Shi, had been silent for a long time, and the rain could finally fall with the same arrogance! And I, how lucky I am!

Finally, I comforted myself in my heart. Perhaps, it is a kind of happiness to travel through time and space, through history and listen to the rain in the bamboo forest.

There is a place where I have been once. This is the sound of rain in music, which accurately copies the memory into a walking picture: the wind walks in my thoughts, I walk in the bamboo forest, and the rain walks in the wind. ...

I really appreciate the sound of the piano that touched the beauty of the rain to the extreme. How long has Nanling Bamboo Garden been remembered? How long has that bamboo grove stone path been ignored? How long ago I looked up at the sky in the bamboo forest?

Zheng Banqiao was obsessed with the emotion of bamboo, and was lost in ink painting all his life. He left with his sleeves clean, but I continued the poet's melancholy and the painter's loneliness in the world of mortals. If the tolerance and gentleness of the rain didn't awaken my withered loneliness, how could I easily touch the hidden and profound pain?

That slender flute must come from this bamboo forest. Otherwise, how can the almost traceless rain moisten the whole soul, from the body surface to the heart and then to the blood? It's just my imaginary man in a white shirt. Why doesn't he show up? Now that the flowers have withered, can't he understand my long loneliness?

I don't know whether Boya's piano music has ever paid tribute to those people with lofty ideals. I really want to invite him to visit the bamboo forest. I gave him a huge oil-paper umbrella, and he caressed the piano. I listened to the rain, and the wind swept the bamboo forest carefully, and then escaped clearly from the strings. I am willing to be the wind on his piano and walk under his touch all my life. ...

People often think of those ancients when they are forgotten because the world of mortals is too noisy, and they also think that they can rest their hearts in places or times that cannot be traced back.

Taoyuan County, Hunan Province is famous for Tao Yuanming's Peach Blossom Garden. People only know that there is a rare bamboo forest in the Peach Blossom Spring, but they don't know that there is a mountain with bamboo dozens of miles away from the Peach Blossom Spring. I have only been there once.

Once is enough. Every time it rains, all the memories will be clear again.