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雨无数次落在我的路上,有时候大雨滂沱,有点像《阿甘正传》里那样满银幕的雨,梧桐树下我隐约看到瑟缩的人影;有时候细雨斜飞,田野之上村庄寂寞。雨带给人生的景象是如此丰富,在雨中,我的记忆会变得异常活跃。雨点散漫,倾落在江上湖面,还有静止的渔夫。我一次次打开伞,伞的记忆如莲花开阖。我渐次长大,油布伞褪脱了记忆中的黄,有时为了和所谓浪漫近一些,某些雨天,伞成为我年少轻狂的牵绊,和表演苦情的拖累。但是此刻,我内心只充盈着比浪漫还绵长的温暖,它
Countless falls on my road, heavy rain sometimes, a bit like “Forrest Gump” in the screen of the rain, I saw the vaguely Syzygotic trees under the shadow of trees; sometimes drizzle drifting, the field above Lonely village. The scene that rain brings to life is so rich that in the rain my memory becomes very active. Raindrops, pouring in the lake, there are still fishermen. I open the umbrella again and again, the memory of the umbrella is like a lotus flower opening and closing. I gradually grew up, tarpaulin umbrella faded memory of the yellow, and sometimes the so-called romantic and some more, some rainy days, umbrella became my childhood frivolous tie-in, and performing drag. But at the moment, my heart filled with only a long warm than romantic, it