The rain that warms the country has never turned into a cold, hard and brilliant snowflake. Well-informed people think he is monotonous. Does he feel unhappy? The snow in Jiangnan is very beautiful. That's the news of youth that is still looming, and it's the skin of a very strong virgin. In the snowfield, there are blood-red camellias, single-petal plum blossoms with dark green in white and wintersweet with dark yellow chin; There are cool green weeds under the snow. Butterflies really don't exist; I really can't remember whether bees come to collect honey from camellia and plum blossoms. But my eyes seem to see winter flowers blooming in the snow with a lot of honey.

Bees are busy flying and hear them buzzing.

Children's hands, red with cold, are like purple bud ginger, and seven or eight of them get together to make snow arhats. Because it was unsuccessful, whose father also came to help. Lohan is much taller than children, although it is only a bunch of small tops and big bottoms, and finally it is unclear whether it is a gourd or a Lohan; But it's white and bright, and it's glued together with its own water, and the whole ground shines. The children made his eyes with longan seeds and stole rouge from his mother's powder and put it on his lips. This time it's really a big arhat. He just sat in the snow with burning eyes and red lips.

The next day, several children came to see him and asked him. By the way, he clapped his hands, nodded and smiled. But he finally sat alone. Sunny days come to soothe his skin again, and cold nights freeze him and turn him into an inconspicuous crystal shape; The continuous sunny days made him want to know what it was, and the rouge on his mouth gradually faded.

The snowflakes in the north, flying around, will always be like powder and sand, never sticking together, and will retreat on the house, on the ground and on the hay. That's it. The snow on the house has faded because of the warmth of the fire in the house. In addition, on a sunny day, a whirlwind suddenly came. It flew vigorously, shining brightly in the sun, like a fog with flames, spinning and rising, permeating space; Let the space rotate, rise and twinkle.

In the boundless wilderness, under the cold sky, the shining soul of rain is spinning and rising. ...

Yes, it is lonely snow, dead rain, the soul of rain.