Talk about a rainy mood

The drizzle is like smoke and fog, fluttering and lingering, dyeing trees and grass and country roads.

The drizzle is like smoke and fog, fluttering and lingering, dyeing trees and grass and country roads. A few purple swallows went through the rain curtain and dropped a string of green notes. Three or two impatient apricot flowers on the village wall have been picked in the rain, soft and fresh, reminiscent of the artistic conception of the poem "apricot flowers in the rain"

In the drizzle, stepping on the ancient bluestone road, you can see that your toes are slightly wet and crystal clear.

It began to rain in Mao Mao outside the window. Small raindrops hit the window, splashing dots, and two or three drops got together and slipped down the glass window. Take a breath of cold air to wash away fatigue.

It's raining in Mao Mao, and the whole thing is covered with green. This green, green is clear, green is bright.

Slightly cold autumn wind with drizzle, however, rolling mountains, summer green is green, no yellow leaves, no leaves, don't you want to get old?

More than 480 ancient temples were left in the Southern Dynasties, and countless pagodas were shrouded in wind and rain.

-Su Shi

Diligent, inspirational, lyrical, sad

I like this life very much, walking in the drizzle and being baptized by God. The rain wet the shoulders, dripped into the heart, washed away the polluted soul and enjoyed the sublimation of life!

The most beautiful thing is not the rainy day, but the roof where you shelter from the rain.

-Vincent Fong

Sorrow, love, mood and emotion

It is drizzling outside the window, and the raindrops seem to be accompanied by a small dance music. I can't help being tempted by the world outside the window.

It's drizzling all over the south of the Yangtze River, and the water vapor has also added mystery and mystery to the south of the Yangtze River.

In the autumn rain, Liu Yong's mood is so desolate and helpless. Li Yian also described her loneliness, sadness and sadness in Autumn Love. "Indus raining, dripping at dusk. This time, what a sad sentence! "

Behind the scenes, there is a thunderous drum-this is thunder, which shouts at it and us like a loyal lightning follower-as if telling us to listen to the cry of nature.

The drizzle is falling quietly, like the silver thread spit out by countless silkworm mothers. Thousands of filaments, rippling in mid-air, are fascinated by long veils, covering black fields.

The world in the rain is completely different from usual. Everything around it has become foggy. Without the clarity of the past, it has become more mysterious and lovely. The mountains in the distance are shrouded in clouds, like an elaborate ink landscape painting; The nearby trees are covered with water drops, like pure and beautiful girls; Roads and buildings are also washed away by dust, making them clean and tidy. The air in the rain is particularly fresh, which makes people linger back and forth and linger.

It is raining harder and harder. Looking into the distance, there seems to be a gray curtain covering the line of sight. It's gray, and trees and houses can't see anything.

There was a light rain in the morning. Although it has cleared up now, the road is still very slippery. Autumn crops in the fields on both sides were washed away by rain, pearls were crystal clear, and there was a fresh and moist fragrance in the air.

Dark clouds rolled in the sky and it rained cats and dogs in an instant.

I looked out through the glass window, and there was a huge bead curtain hanging between heaven and earth. Rain fell on the tiles on the opposite roof, splashing on the roof like a thin layer of smoke.

The most touching thing is the spring rain. She is so gentle and warm, walking in the drizzle together, it is easy to fall into a romantic atmosphere.

Oh, light rain, I can't remember how many times, I stood in the light rain, listening to the misty rain, watching the wisps of hookah holding everything, intoxicated in this misty rain.

Slight rain in Mao Mao, rain in Mao Mao. Light rain, quiet and simple mountain spring, with continuous poetry; The light rain all over the sky is not gloomy and sad, only fresh and green.

Thin and soft rain silk weaves a big net and hangs from the clouds to the ground.

The drizzle splashed gently on my face. A cool breeze blows, leaves rustle overhead, and symphonies ring from time to time in the fields at night. ...

The drizzle is a boudoir, and Yinger is anxious and lazy.

Let the drizzle brush my shoulder, and all my tense nerves suddenly relax. I imagine myself as a stream of air, free and easy, free and happy, and high. For a beautiful moment, I think I was born and raised here, in the misty rain of more than a thousand people.

It's raining in Mao Mao, and it keeps raining. The sky is getting dark and hazy, and the raindrops are invisible and countless.

Spring rain, like cow hair, like a flower needle, like a filament, is densely woven.