雨珠

看着窗户上散落的雨珠，看着窗外密密麻麻飞溅的雨点，看着那怒气冲冲的黑云。我手端一杯咖啡，细细品味，尽是苦涩，的确，窗外的景色也美得苍凉。

为雨添上一抹色彩的是那雨中嬉戏的孩童。他们带着浅浅的酒窝，嘴角总是勾勒出一条完美的弧线，眼睛里仿佛闪烁着星辰。他们头顶举着大小不一、颜色不一的雨伞，远处看仿佛一朵朵盛开在雨天中的花朵。他们脚上的雨鞋也都是五彩缤纷的，红的，黄的，蓝的，紫的……雨鞋随着主人的意愿一会儿蹦跳进水坑，一会儿大跨步跑去摘一片含着雨珠的树叶。咖啡喝到一半，竟在舌尖上感到了甜味……

窗外的景色死死地抓住了我的眼球，我像一块榆木呆呆地立在那。临街的白杨早已被雨点侵蚀，久经日晒的沧桑已被洗去，剩下的只有朝气蓬勃。风刮得呼呼响，吹低街边的野花杂草，但野花杂草们仍旧那么顽强，有着一颗不羁的心。忽然想起什么，我大跨步走到阳台，阳台上显而易见着堆残骸，残骸中那朵落魄的玫瑰和凌落的玫瑰瓣尤为显眼。我低头拾起那残败的玫瑰瓣，一滴雨珠贴合在那上面。我用手指轻轻抚上，感到的是彻骨的冰冷。这个世界，果然还是适者生存。手伸出阳台的铁丝网，一滴又一滴的雨珠沁入掌心，冰冷的感觉袭上心头，但却又让我格外安心。越美的东西也越具有杀伤力。

那杯咖啡仅剩一口，但我也迟迟没有抿掉。窗外的雨渐渐开始小了，豆大般的雨珠渐渐化为银针般的轻丝。轻丝柔柔弱弱地飘洒在窗户上，不过一会儿化作一摊水渍，让人忍不住心生怜惜。

参考翻译：

Looking at the raindrops scattered on the windows, the raindrops scattered outside the windows, and the angry dark clouds. I have a cup of coffee in my hand, savoring it, and it is full of bitterness. Indeed, the scenery outside the window is also beautiful and desolate.

It is the children who play in the rain that add a touch of color to the rain. With shallow dimples, their corners of the mouth always draw the outline of a perfect arc, and their eyes seem to twinkle with stars. They hold umbrellas of different sizes and colors above their heads, which look like flowers blooming in rainy days in the distance. The rain boots on their feet are all colorful, red, yellow, blue and purple ... The rain boots jump into the puddle with the owner's wishes, and then stride to pick a leaf with rain beads. Halfway through the coffee, I felt sweet on my tongue ...

The scenery outside the window caught my eye, and I stood there like a piece of elm. Poplar facing the street has already been eroded by raindrops, and the vicissitudes of the sun have been washed away, leaving only vigor and vitality. The wind blows fast and blows down the wild flowers and weeds on the street, but the wild flowers and weeds are still so tenacious and have an unruly heart. Suddenly remembered something, I strode to the balcony, where there were obvious piles of debris, especially the lonely rose and the fallen rose petals. I bowed my head and picked up the ruined rose petal, and a drop of rain bead stuck on it. I caressed it gently with my fingers, and I felt freezing cold. The world, indeed as expected, is the survival of the fittest. Hand out of the barbed wire on the balcony, drop after drop of rain drops into the palm of my hand, and the cold feeling hits my heart, but it makes me feel at ease. The more beautiful things are, the more lethal they are.

There was only one sip left in that cup of coffee, but I didn't sip it too late. The rain outside the window gradually began to decrease, and the bean-like raindrops gradually turned into silver needles. Light, soft, weak and floating on the window, but after a while it turned into a pool of water stains, which made people feel pity.