Let It Drip Before the Steps
It is raining tonight. It rained last night too, and I thought of this poem.
I like rain. Its sound is natural white noise, and there are usually fewer people around when it rains, leaving the world much quieter.
Of course, my feelings do not fully correspond to the poem. I am not yet old enough to lament all the changes of the world. But often, perhaps you do not need to see yourself in something to form a bond with it; a few coincidences are enough. For instance, I happened to think of this poem.
The rain falls through the night, drop by drop until dawn.
Original
少年听雨歌楼上，红烛昏罗帐。壮年听雨客舟中，江阔云低、断雁叫西风。
而今听雨僧庐下，鬓已星星也。悲欢离合总无情，一任阶前、点滴到天明。