早上起床,便是哗哗的雨声。不难想像雨从暗沉的空中飘落,寒意笼罩栖身的城。把姐姐的催促声撇在一边,我重新裹着被子。听着上天赐予的声音,豪情、潇洒、干脆、狂放,时而淋淋漓漓,时而浩浩荡荡。天潮潮地湿湿,即连在梦中,也似乎有把伞撑着,而就凭这把伞,躲得过一阵潇潇的冷雨,也躲不过整个雨季。每次听着雨声,心 Wake up in the morning, it is rushing rain. It is not difficult to imagine the rain falling from the dull air, chill enveloped the shelter of the city. The sister's urging aside, I re-wrapped quilt. Listening to God-given voice, pride, chic, simply, wild, sometimes dripping, sometimes mighty. Wet damp days, even in the dream, it seems that there are umbrellas propped, but by virtue of this umbrella, hiding a while cold rain, but also to hide the rainy season. Every time listening to rain, heart