Sentences about Dong Yu

1. Although winter rain has never been praised as precious as spring rain, it still has no complaints, silently confiding to people, predicting: my disappearance, the white snow sky will be there. In front of my eyes.

2. Winter rain is the last remnant left by the warm atmosphere. It no longer has the heroic spirit of summer storms, nor the tenderness of autumn rain. It only stands aside to create beauty for the world and does its best. With my own meager strength.

3. Winter rain is weaving the love network of winter, covering the world overwhelmingly, falling from the sky, drifting lonely in the flickering windows, and a long-lasting lonely feeling inadvertently appears. At this time, it emerged in my heart. The passing years, the distant people and things, waved to me in the blurred light and shadow. Distant thoughts and ties under my feet are entangled into an unsolvable knot and tied in my heart. The four seasons have different rains, and there are countless people with different stories in the world. In the eyes of these people with different stories, rain is naturally very different. For frustrated people, rain adds to the melancholy; for proud people, rain has a special interest. These differences are all caused by people's moods. This is what the saying goes, "Looking at things from my own perspective, everything has my color."

4. Rain is a divine creature of nature. Therefore, I like the rain in all seasons. The delicate spring rain is like a girl in first love, shy and secretive; the rough summer rain is like a passionate man, unrestrained, willful and careless; the affectionate autumn rain is like a passionate lover, lingering and endless. The calm winter rain is as cold and ruthless as a resentful woman. It often rains and snows to vent her resentment. Because I like rain, I like to walk in the drizzle. No matter what season it is, without rain gear, the crystal raindrops will hit my thick shawl hair wantonly, and the tender and cold rain strands will caress my long eyelashes. Walking in the rain for a long time, I experienced the delicacy of spring rain, the richness of summer rain, the dignity of autumn rain, and the naturalness of winter rain.

5. The small raindrops make a sound when they knock on the ground. Is there no echo for the impact of the soul? In the emptiness, there is no courage. I'm afraid, just afraid of touching the quiet curtain of life! I have looked at the blue sky and white clouds thousands of times, but I dare not really look at reality or myself. My heart is always trembling and shouting: Why does the world let real existence become hypocritical? Why do people put on a nonchalant or even resolute face to cover up a fragile heart? Why do people have to go to the maximum limit? Suppress and escape, search and search, but can't find the answer!

6. Among the rains in the four seasons, I hate winter rain the most! The rain in winter has no poetry at all, it is just cold and withered.

7. Winter Rain is even more depressing. Pedestrians on the road hold umbrellas, tighten their necks, and rush faster. The original plan to play ball with classmates also fell through. The mood became even more depressed. As the clothes on our bodies became thicker one by one, we lost the flexibility we used to have. It won’t be long before the damn frostbite will creep up on my fingers. Thinking about the sunshine in spring, the comfort in summer, and the coolness in autumn, now that I am huddled at home, my original good mood has been suppressed a lot.

8. I often sigh at the magic of nature’s creations. Rain and snow will travel hand in hand in the world! Rain and snow can sometimes make people feel annoying, but it is said that they can cleanse the world of all kinds of filth.

9. Amidst the sound of "raindrops", everything seemed so quiet. The sound of rain outside the window penetrates through the window and over the wall without having to listen, reminding me of the existence of winter rain at this moment. Looking out the window like a wanderer, the rain kept falling. There are no more stars or bright moon in the sky, and the colorful lights in the bustling night scene also look a little dim. The unexpected winter rain mixed with the flowing snowflakes made me truly feel the existence of winter. The night is getting deeper and deeper, and the winter rain seems to be getting heavier and heavier with the rhythm of the night. It no longer has the delicacy of spring, nor the arrogance of summer, nor the romance of autumn, but only the refreshing coldness.

On a rainy night, especially a quiet rainy night in winter, the meditating soul flies far away for love, love, longing, and hope...

10. The winter wind blows together, and the pedestrians fly far away. We have no intention of taking a leisurely stroll to catch the east wind. People's clothes are getting thicker and thicker, and the doors and windows of every house are tightly closed. All these messages are telling us: winter is really around us!

11. Winter rain is an elegant poem and a lingering song. It comes naturally, without being impatient or angry. Go peacefully, go without worries and restraints. It is not as thin and soft as Chun Yu, nor as noisy as Xia Yu, nor as silent as Qiu Yu. Winter rain makes all things understand: Don’t miss the beauty of spring flowers, don’t give up the beauty of summer, don’t indulge in the richness of autumn, and don’t reject vitality in winter. It always treats everyone's actions with a calm attitude, a tolerant attitude, and an affectionate look. You close the window and close the door, but the sound is still in your ears and lingering in your heart; you open the door and window, and it is still dripping...

12. Winter rain is ruthless, and the rainwater quickly wets the air. The ground was covered with water, and the water in the depressions was blowing bubbles, as if the earth was crying. The sycamore trees beside the road looked so helpless. The howling north wind brought the rain, and severely beat the remaining yellow leaves, which turned slightly yellow. The grass and flowers that have not faded are all covered with crystal tears, as if they are telling the misfortune of fate.

13. If it is spring and summer, walking in the rainy alley holding an oil-paper umbrella is somewhat poetic. When the winter rain meets you unexpectedly, no matter how wonderful the umbrella or the wonderful poem is, you will not be able to raise the slightest interest because of the cold, not to mention the absence of that lilac-like woman. That hesitating worry.

14. The realness of the light rain and the lingering touch of the light rain call me out of my dream. My mind cannot bear the teasing of the winter rain. I toss and turn, and I can no longer be silent with the earth and the night. Lifting the curtains, the world outside is dark and solemn; it is rare to listen so intently and be intoxicated with yourself. Through the misty time and space, it seems that you can see your thoughts flying, strands, being pulled far away by the winter rain...

15. The rain is still pattering. This is the first rain since the beginning of winter. I sit in front of the window and stare blankly at the winter rain. I feel that the rain is so ruthless and so... depressed.

16. The winter wind blows and the chill is strong. The remaining leaves on the trees are its prey, and the leaves fall one after another under its claws; the winter wind is strong, and the fox and rabbit are sad, among the withered grass. Shivering and walking sadly in the wilderness, what they look forward to most in that pale season is spring; the winter wind is gentle and the water is affectionate. Perhaps it is the lack of frogs croaking and the fish playing among the lotus flowers. The slight ripples in the shallow pond are like a sigh; when people describe it as cold, biting, and knife, the face of winter becomes real.

17. It’s late at night, sitting in front of the computer. Although the double-layer windows are closed, the sound of rain still cannot be eliminated. I wanted to use one of my favorite poems to describe winter rain, but I was surprised to find that almost all the poems about rain that I had memorized and knew were mostly written by spring rain, summer rain or autumn rain, while lonely winter rain was rarely written by The poet describes. In my memory, I only have these two sentences by Lu You, "I lie down late at night listening to the wind and rain, and my iron horse falls into my sleep on the glacier." They are about winter rain in the north. In my memory, there are very few poems describing winter rain, but there are many modern pop songs about winter rain. I really like Qi Qin's "Winter Rain", and my favorite is Meng Tingwei's "Come to Taipei to watch the rain in winter, don't cry in a foreign land..." "Come to Taipei to watch the rain in winter."

18. I never care when winter comes, but solar terms are something that my hard-working parents who are farmers often pay attention to. Because I was born in a rural area, my parents began to teach me "the beginning of spring, the rain..." when I was learning Chinese. They asked me to memorize it, saying that it was a must for rural people, and it would be useful for farm work. But I rarely do farm work now, so the first perception of winter is the winter wind.

19. In the morning, when I woke up, I found that the winter rain was falling "shar la la, sand la la". Sometimes mixed with some soft snowflakes, adding a bit of chill to the already cold weather.

I don’t know when it started to rain in the winter in the northern country. In the world of rain, I like light rain, the light rain as thin as silk threads, especially the silent light rain that moistens things in winter. In the cold winter, although the rain gives people a cold feeling, it keeps people awake. In the clarity that the first rain of this winter gave me, I typed this text about winter rain in front of the computer.

20. The winter rain is flying, the cold wind is dancing, and the cold wind and rain are shaking the night. The winter rain floats in the cold and silent sky, falling gently on the world. The rain didn't seem to be too heavy, but there were raindrops hitting the awning on the window. The banging was very clear and could be heard far in the silent night. Listening to the falling rain hitting the window lattice, and the whistling wind hitting the skinny treetops, it's like the sound of nature, which is the most beautiful note in the world. That beautiful note brought me to Chopin's "Raindrops" and the story behind it. Chopin and George back then? Sang lived in seclusion in a small town. One day, George? Sang and her daughter went out and were caught in a heavy storm. They did not return home until dusk. When they entered, they saw Chopin playing a beautiful and sad piece of music alone, crying while playing. Chopin cried when he saw them and said: "I thought you were all dead!" That song was "Raindrops". This song "Raindrops" is a fantasy that he improvised on a stormy evening when he thought that the person he loved had passed away. I have never wondered how Chopin could have such strange thoughts - thinking that the person he loved was dead. For an ordinary man, when his woman goes out and is caught in a storm, he should bring an umbrella and go out to find her, but Chopin did not, so he is not an ordinary man. Maybe it was because Chopin was not an ordinary man that he had strange ideas and created this meaningful song "Raindrops"?

21. I put on my cotton coat and tried to experience the taste of winter rain. Before I could recover, my whole body was already covered with its affection. It gently told me, don’t say I’m callous, even though I’m in the wrong season, we are also sons of nature and friends walking in this world with you.

22. Winter rain falls from the sky, mixed with ice droplets that look like snow but not snow. It hurts like a knife when it hits the face. Only this winter rain makes you afraid and chills your heart.

23. On the morning of early winter, the sky was gray and a cold evil spirit enveloped the entire world. The sun has not yet come out, and everything in winter is exposed and icy. Cold is a clear sign that winter is coming. Seeing the desolate and desolate autumn ending its tenacious mission, and being helpless as the irresistible domineering force of winter submerged it in the sky of falling leaves, I realized that the whole world had become the territory of cold air.

24. After a light winter rain, there was some white water in the newly plowed fields, lingering with the black soil, perhaps gestating the next harvest. It's the season; the old buffalo that had eaten enough withered grass gently shook off the grass clippings on its body, slowly leaned forward to drink the water at the bottom of the pool, and after a loud sneeze, it shook its body violently, and the water droplets that could not be shaken off seemed to be Telling about the chill brought by the winter rain; the hardest workers are undoubtedly the old farmers who shuttle through the rain. One hand is holding a plastic bucket full of fertilizer, and the other hand is spreading fertilizer on the green rapeseed, which is full of wrinkles. The hardships of the years are written on their faces, and their desire for a good harvest is written with their hands that are red from the cold. As for me, I only think of the cold, the difficulties, and the inconvenience caused by the winter rain. I shrink my hands and watch The rain outside the window is worrying. My hands seem to be well maintained, but they are definitely not hardworking enough.