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曾经，我是去拜访过春雨的。 Once, I visited Chunyu. “随风潜入夜，润物细无声。”春天的雨水偷偷地吹来的时候，在每枝干枯的枝条上洒下点点新绿。冲刷着干裂的山垚，浣洗着枯黄的草地；山谷里吹来习习凉颸，池塘上奏出叮咚的乐曲。那样“帘外雨潺潺”的清晨，每每徘徊于桐槛之下，倘徉于平林之间，放眼望去，便是一片朦胧，依稀缥缈罢了。但闻繁花嫩叶之中有“大珠小珠落玉盘”的声音，才知是雨来了。果然，远方烟云出岫，飞鸟入林，新叶上的雨点透过朦胧的雾气闪着点点光辉。定神细视，就看到细细的雨点像柳絮一样飘飘洒洒地落下来。这样的时候，叩山访水，就别有一番情趣。 "With the wind into the night, moisten things silently." When the spring rain comes stealthily, sprinkle a little green on each dry branch. Wash the dry mountain, wash the yellow grass; play the cool wind in the valley, play the music of Ding Dong on the pond. In such a "murmuring rain outside the curtain" morning, it often lingers under the Tung sill, and if you walk among the trees, looking at it, it's just a hazy and vague. But the sound of "big and small beads falling on the jade plate" in the flowers and leaves tells us that the rain is coming. Sure enough, the distant clouds come out of the mountains, the birds come into the forest, and the raindrops on the new leaves shine through the hazy fog. When I look down, I can see the rain falling down like catkins. In such a time, it's not interesting to knock on the mountain and visit the water. | 
