The feet of the wind and rain, the wind only rain to fall. In the countryside, the rain had not come, the wind is always one step ahead. Walk in the country road to see trees and whirling dance in the wind, listening to a lengthy children away cow bell wind, smell the fragrance of crops floating fluttering. After the wind roared, the rain is like a huge waterfall, Zhetiangaide rolled over. Looking forward, with the rain kissed, hugged. Lingering fear of rain, quickly hide deep-rooted, thinning dense leaves, such as the umbrella under the tree canopy, however, the rain, is still down the leaves, I follow my footsteps to catch up, hit my heart stop. Rain, unhurried, down, quite patient, near the peaks, showing green in the rain dripping fresh; distant peaks, then wrapped in a gray rain and fog in the obscure, and as an increase Ink landscape painting. At this point, lonely for some time in the parachutes will be blossoming in the countryside, colorful, fun blinding. Inter glimpse, or a Pianpianshaonian, or a Tingting teen idol, and my passing, a surge of youthful filling the heart, lingering, let me through the veil like the rain curtain, Chi Wang that more to go farther, the more to the smaller, more to the more obscure shadows ... ... in the rain, Lintan Fishing is my life in a country elegance. Zhu Li, wearing a wet, or sit, or squat, or stand on a river stone pond, peeping between the stones in water fish, fishing a river sound of water. The rain has been less than, but very small, very dense, near the grass, the distant trees, and the entire valley, is this ethereal, flowing, wet smoke. As quiet as rain hit the lake in the mirror surface, a drop a water Wowo, rain surplus days, Ying Tong Shui Wo; fish and underwater pebbles of talk, along the slender thread is hidden, if they float on the water, open into a flower heart; seven float into the water, four float along with the pole test fish, swallow and spit out the hook, sometimes left on the water, sometimes to play spin the right spin, I painted the arc ... ... eyes intently watching the water, ears are listening to a folk village. Broken at the foot of the rushing stream la phrase, rain in the head, bit by bit whisper. A pool of clear water and faint, a Meng Meng rain, my internal organs and the six internal organs, mind and soul, all washed the clear and bright, open desert air, a pure and hearty, a sudden overflowing of a cozy priceless chest. Fishing back, but also met a small boy on the road, walking slowly in front of cattle and sheep, shepherd boy in the back slowly now; the distance, near the garden where there are farmers who wore hats, tuck the tape, Tour on the ridge, Qing Li drainage ditch, and when the crops seemed to be just greased the same shine.
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