Autumn Rain on Yangming

Autumn rain falls on Yangming, and under the corridor, the sound of Zen can be heard.
White walls and black tiles blend like ink paintings,
The cobblestone path glimmers faintly.
Raindrops string together the chimes hanging from the eaves,
Falling into the lotus pond, startling the koi into ripples.
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A breeze sweeps through the hallways,
The scent of osmanthus mingles with the fragrance of aged wood,
Drifting past the carved window frames.
Leaning against the railing, watching the slanted rain weave,
Turning the ancient residence into a hazy poetic scroll.
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In the raindrops spinning off the edge of the umbrella,
Reflections of upturned eaves and softly glowing lanterns appear.
As footsteps echo through the empty corridor,
It feels as if meeting a rain from the Ming or Qing dynasty.
·
No need to rush for sunny days,
For this moment in the hall—
The rain is a natural curtain,
And stillness is the best interpretation.

Post by 余姚阳明观堂 | Aug 28, 2025