青灯照壁人初睡,冷雨敲窗被未温。——题记不知何时,这座城也开始依赖雨天的绵软。几日不见便觉得少了些什么,傻傻守望在晴日的微尘中。昨夜的雨,是深夜才悄悄来的。错过了苍茫的暮色,如同深沉的难醒的梦,在窗畔低回浅唱。我在床上,一听到雨水的“滴答”声便立刻奔到窗边去看。深夜的雨水并不明晰,囫囵成一片雾茫茫,像是有什么从远方迤逦而来的愉悦快感。那声音清脆,但杂乱,仿佛独舞的钟表,敲打着时光的粉末,碾压着岁月的结石。 Green light Zhaobi early sleep, cold rain hit the window was not warm. - Inscription Do not know when, the city also began to rely on the soft rain. Few days I saw less what, silly watch in the fine dust in the sunny day. The rain last night was quietly coming late at night. Miss the vast twilight, like a deep awake dream, singing in the low back to the window. I was in bed, as soon as I heard the sound of “ticking”, I ran straight to the window to see it. Late-night rain is not clear, staggering into a foggy, like what pleasure from the distant wandering pleasure. That voice crisp, but messy, as if solo dance clocks, beating the powder of time, rolling the years of the stones.