雨恋清晰地记得那是那年的四月十八号。北方的春天是干燥的,漫长的冬天里只有一场如霜的小雪在地上薄薄的铺了一层,此后便不见有一丝儿湿气了。一连几天,肆虐的风从遥远的荒漠刮过来,携了满怀的黄沙抛洒在这久旱的土地上。每日午后狂风大作,一时飞沙走石。太阳是昏黄的,空气浑浊,黄沙弥漫了整座城市,街道、房屋和行人都笼罩在沉沉沙雾之中。我常常久伫于窗前凝望着那几乎压顶的昏空,渴望它能变得湛蓝与高远,问 Rain love clearly remember that year is April 18th. The spring of the north is dry, and in the long winter there is only a thin layer of frost on the ground, and there is no trace of moisture afterwards. For days, the raging wind scraped off the distant deserts and the yellow sand full of yellow sand was thrown over the drought-stricken land. Afternoon windy masterpiece, a temporary Feishazishi. The sun is dim, the air is cloudy, the yellow sand permeates the entire city, and the streets, houses and pedestrians are shrouded in deep sand and fog. I often long in front of the window staring at the almost pressure of the unconscious, longing for it to become blue and lofty