Chapter 58 listen to the rain

It has been raining since early morning.Rain is not a rare thing, but it is spring rain. As the saying goes: "Spring rain is as expensive as oil." And in the midst of a rare severe drought, its preciousness can be imagined. "Moisturizing things silently", the spring rain originally had a very small sound, so small that it was "nothing".However, I am now sitting on the balcony that is divided into a small house, with a big iron sheet on top.The eaves dripping from upstairs hit the iron sheet and made a sound, so it was no longer "silent".According to common sense, I sat there, desperately trying to use the same kind of dead words. I should have needed a very quiet environment and a very quiet mood to be able to settle down, enter the role, and interpret this bible-like stuff.This kind of sound of rain hitting the iron sheet should be extremely annoying, and it must be gone soon.

However, the opposite is true.I sat there quietly and heard the sound of raindrops on the top of my head. At this time, the sound was better than the silence.The sound is slow and rapid, sometimes high and sometimes low, sometimes deep and intermittent, sometimes like a golden sound, sometimes like a yellow bell, sometimes like a big pearl falling on a jade plate, sometimes like a red coral and a white coral. In the sea, sometimes it's like playing a plain qin, sometimes it's like dancing with thunderbolts, sometimes it's like a hundred birds contending, and sometimes it's like a rabbit falling down and a falcon rises.The dead words seem to come alive, and I seem to be full of youthful vitality again.I seldom have such a spiritual state in my life, and it is even more difficult to explain it to outsiders.

In China, listening to the rain is originally a matter for elegant people.Although I don't think I'm a complete layman, it's hard to say whether I can be regarded as an elegant person.I am probably a kind of animal between refined and vulgar.In ancient Chinese poetry, there are quite a few works about listening to the rain.By the way: it seems to be rare in foreign poetry.My friend Zhang Yong recalled his cousin's poem: "Frequently dreaming about the spring pool and adding beautiful sentences, every time I hear the rain at night, I recall the bed." It is quite poetic.Sister Lin in Lianzhong loves Li Yishan's line "Leave the lotus withered to listen to the sound of rain".The most famous song about listening to the rain is of course Song Jiangjie's "Poppy". The word is not long, so I simply copied it:

The boy listens to Yuge upstairs, The red candle is dim and the tent is closed. The prime of life listens to the rain in the boat, The river is wide and the clouds are low, Broken Goose is called West Wind. Now listening to the rain under the monk's hut, The temples are already stars. The joys and sorrows are always merciless, Before the first term, Drip to dawn. Jiang Jie's mood when listening to the rain was quite complicated.He used the incident of listening to the rain to sum up his life, from youth to adulthood to old age, reaching the realm of "sorrows and joys are always ruthless".However, there is a considerable gap between ancient and modern concepts of old.He is "the temple is already a star", with some white hair, and it seems that the oldest is only about fifty years old.From today's perspective, he is just between middle-aged and old people. Compared with myself, I have reached the ninth year of Wang Wang, and my temples are no longer "stars", and the top is already "Tongshan Zhuzhuo".I am more qualified than him to reach the realm of "sorrows and joys are always ruthless".I have already been able to "indulge in the waves, neither joy nor fear".

But why am I so elated when I hear the rain today?There is not much taste in it, and I am completely a "layman" here.I think mainly of wheat, of the green saplings in that vast field.I was born in the countryside, and although I left at the age of 6, I can't talk about doing any farm work, but I have picked up wheat, picked up beans, cut grass, and split sorghum leaves.The blood of farmers flows in my veins, and I have always cherished deep feelings for farmers and the countryside until this old age.The highest hope of farmers is to harvest more grain.A drought threatens the growth of crops.Even if I live in the city for a long time, when it rains less, I will look at the clouds, and I say that my anxiety is no less than that of farmers.In spring in the north, there are nine droughts in ten years.This year it seems that the drought is going to be evil again.I listen to the weather forecast every day and observe the clouds in the sky from time to time.Burning with worry, in vain call for help.What I also saw in my dream was a drizzle.

This morning, my dream came true.Sitting on this balcony, which is only a few feet long and wide, and hearing the sound of rain above my head, I can't help but drive thousands of miles away, feeling relaxed and happy.In the big and small high and low wheat fields, some are square and some are crooked, every leaf seems to open its mouth, sucking the sweet raindrops heartily, like nectar from the sky. blue.It used to be green, but now it's even greener.The universe has added a piece of warmth and peace out of thin air. My heart was withdrawn again, to Yan Garden, to the hill next to my building, and to the lotus pond in front of the door.My favorite February Orchid is blooming.They struggled desperately out of the soil, withstood the drought, and reluctantly bloomed small red and white flowers, the same color as before, but bright and without trace, giving people a feeling of loneliness.In the lotus pond, the lotus, which has just woken up from hibernation, is preparing to hit the water with strength.Of course there is no shortage of water.However, the drizzle was drawn into small circles on the surface of the water, each passing away and then born, and each life passing away.This was originally something that poets among human beings admired, and Xiao Hehua became happy after seeing it, and became more energetic, and she would definitely get out of the water soon.

My heart got closer again, it was received on this balcony, it was received in my own cavity, the jingle on the top of my head was the same as before, and my mood was even more joyful.But I worry from time to time that it will stop suddenly.I devoted myself to praying silently, wishing that the sound of the rain would last for a long time, and that it would never stop. April 13, 1995