雨初下,听不见声音,也看不见行踪。走出门,雨飘落在脸上,你才能知道它的存在。脸上仿佛有无数只蚂蚁在跳踢踏舞,麻酥酥的。雨大了些,像轻轻的烟雾,又像扬起的尘埃。我想起杜甫的诗:“好雨知时节,当春乃发生。随风潜入夜,润物细无声。”雨滋润着草,滋润着花。院中的树叶、花草被 Early in the rain, can not hear the sound, can not see the whereabouts. Go out, rain falling on the face, you can know it's existence. As if there are countless ants on the face tapping dance, crisp puff pastry. The rain is bigger, like the light smoke, like the rising dust. I think of Du Fu's poem: “Good rain to know the season, when the spring is happening. Sneaked into the night with the wind, moisten things silently.” Rain moistens the grass, moistens the flowers. Hospital leaves, flowers are