The pattering rain caressed the loneliness of spring. I love the feeling of spring rain, because I always feel it can wash away all sorrow. Listening to the patter of the rain, I just want to immerse myself in the world of rain, to calm myself down, to be even calmer.
Undoubtedly, I love the rain; perhaps that love is innate. Rainy days are also when I most easily let my mind wander. When it rains, time and space are colorful; the scent of earth mingles with the fragrance of roses, and the moist air soothes a restless heart.
Everyone has their own little thoughts on this rainy night. But once the window is closed, all thoughts are immediately imprisoned. So I begin to imagine, to imagine that freedom, to imagine the true nature of humanity.
Summer rain arrives with thunder and lightning, so breathtaking; autumn rain always carries a touch of coolness in the chilly autumn wind; winter rain, needless to say, freezes into ice blocks before it even hits the ground, striking your forehead directly. Spring rain, however, is different. It's so delicate, so soft, so gentle on the spring leaves, and reddening the summer flowers. Spring rain has a spirit; it can sense the breath of every life, and then kiss the forehead of every life with its lips. So, even the vibrant roses shyly lower their heads, and the clover in the garden vie for spring's embrace, as if waiting for the baptism of life, welcoming the next rebirth.
I don't know if this rain can still be considered spring rain, because the fleeting time tells us that summer began just a few days ago. Time always flies by so quickly. This time last year, I was still sitting behind a desk piled high with exam papers, writing furiously! This time last year, I probably didn't even know this city! This time last year, I was still living a life of ease, with everything handed to me! But in the blink of an eye, a train ticket has brought me to this brand new city. Everything before has become a luxury only enjoyed during holidays, some even forever lost.
Time marches on, but some memories are truly gone forever. Like things washed clean by spring rain, they are refreshed when the sun comes out. Yesterday's dust is just smoke and clouds; the past is frozen in time, forever called the past. If photographs could help us remember the past, I would love to use a camera to record every little detail of life. But life is fluid; a still photograph can never keep up with our flowing footsteps and swirling thoughts. Fortunately, there is a word called "experience." Because we have experienced, we understand that we don't need to record it; we know it's the reason for our actions.
Sometimes we blame society for being too realistic, but perhaps our fantasies are too beautiful! Like wishing this drizzle would never stop, continuing aimlessly forever. Undoubtedly, that's impossible. Yes, nothing is more beautiful than a fleeting moment. Indeed, a fleeting moment is the most beautiful word of time; even the most beautiful things will eventually disappear. We have no right to demand that the world change for us, nor any reason to. The only thing we can do is to make ourselves better and stronger!
Every night, I am alone in contemplation. I reflect on the past and dream about the not-too-distant future. Then I compose myself and wait for the next dawn.
The sound of rain outside the window is extremely faint; perhaps the glass absorbs it. But listening to the rain on such a quiet night, and then capturing that sound in words, isn't it a pleasure in itself? I'm grateful for every rainy night that allows me to quiet down and reflect on the day's events.
The rain is misty, the rain is pattering; I wonder what you are doing in every corner of the world right now, whether you are listening to the spring rain like me?
This is a fast-paced era, but we should slow down from time to time, give our hearts a break, like now, quietly savor life, and then regroup and head to the next stop… Are you also listening to the rain
on this misty night
in a corner of the world …
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