Autumn rain
He opened a hole in the sky, dyed the leaves golden before Uncle Thunder and Lightning came out, and spread gold all over the fields. There is no gentleness of the eldest sister's spring rain, no majesty of the second sister's summer rain, and no coldness of the fourth sister's winter rain. It is naughty and cute, sad and delicate, this is - autumn rain.
I am the harvest season in the eyes of farmers. I fall from the sky, blending with the natural and fresh air, and gently close my gentle chest to the earth. Accompanied by my brisk footsteps, the fruit trees ripple with intoxicating smiles. I took away the crispness of the green leaves, stole the fragrance of the flowers, drove away the roosting geese, hid the laughing fish, bent the ears of wheat, painted the fruits yellow, and playfully hid in the trees to peek at the hardworking figures of the farmers, but I heard them compliment me on my cuteness.
I am the sad feeling described by the poet. I separate the wanderer in a foreign land from his mother in a distant place. I separate the affectionate lovers. I separate the brothers who are closely related to each other. The late autumn moon is pouring out the heartbeat of longing. I want to weave the sighs of a heartbroken person at the end of the world and the tears of missing my loved ones during every festive season into beads and hang them in front of the window of the boudoir when everything is silent, so that I can recall my beloved in my dreams.
I dripped between the tiles on the eaves, among the flowers and trees, on the rivers and lakes, wandering in the passion of the Mohist. If you are willing, close your eyes, in the autumn afternoon, in the cool midnight, in the dense and quiet bamboo forest, in the long and lonely alley, listen to my delicate footsteps, breathe in the most primitive breath of nature, and tell the most beautiful dream in your heart.
Conception: