Have you ever listened to the sound of a raindrop? You might call the small sounds earth songs. Is it possible to catch earth songs, to put them into words?

Long ago, poets in Japan listened, watched, and did catch the beauty of the earth’s songs. They did this with the tiniest poems in the world, called haiku. A haiku is a poem that is just three lines and seventeen syllables long. And the poets who wrote them watched and listened, not only with their eyes and ears, but also with their hearts!

In their haiku, the early Japanese poets caught the colors, sounds, and beauties of the seasons of the year. They sang of their islands’ beauties. Their miniature poems were not meant to fully describe a scene or to explain it but rather were a flash impression.

The old poets are not the only writers of haiku. Today Japanese farmers, shopkeepers, grandparents, and students write it, and because of its strong appeal, haiku is written in many other countries throughout the world.

Interestingly enough, Japanese poetry has had a long and colorful history. In the prehaiku period in the early eighth century, Japanese poets wrote katauta, poems in a question-­and-­answer form, using two people. Each three­-line verse (诗节) contained about seventeen syllables that could be delivered easily in one breath — just as one would naturally ask or answer a question. This has remained the basic pattern for traditional Japanese poetry throughout the centuries.

Another form that appeared was the tanka, which contained five lines and thirty-­one syllables (5-7-5-7-7), written by either one or two persons. From that evolved (发展) the renga, which contained more than one verse, or link. Written by three or more people, it could have as many as 100 links! The first verse of the renga introduced a subject. It had three lines and was called the hokku, or starting verse. Renga parties became a great pleasure.

Around 1450, haikai no renga became popular. This style of linked verse contained puns (双关) and was humorous and amusing. The opening three lines were still called a hokku, and from haikai and hokku the term haiku evolved.

Studies of Mercury — the planet closest to the sun-show that it has shrunk by about 11 kilometers across since the solar system’s birth 4.5 billion years ago. As the planet cooled and contracted (收缩), its surface had many long curved ridges (山脊) similar to the wrinkles on a bad apple.

A new research on these ridges, called lobate scarps (瓣状陡坡), has found more of them, with steeper faces, than ever before. The discovery suggests that Mercury shrank by far more than the previous estimate, says Paul Byrne, a planetary scientist. The finding helps explain how Mercury’s huge metallic core (中心) cooled off over time. It may also finally settle the differences between theoretical scientists, who had predicted a lot of shrinkage, with observers who had not found evidence of that — until now. “We are resolving a four-decade-old argument here,” Byrne added.

Planetary scientists have been arguing over Mercury’s lobate scarps ever since the Mariner 10 spacecraft flew past the planet three times in 1974-1975. Researchers can use measurements of the length and height of the scarps to calculate how much planetary shrinkage they represent. That shrinkage is a product of Mercury’s strange structure — “like a core floating through space with a thin outer blanket,” says Byrne. Most of the planet is made of that large core, and so it would have cooled rapidly as heat rushed toward its surface.

The latest data, coming from NASA’s MESSENGER probe and covering the entire planet, showed many lobate scarps with sharp steeper faces, Byrne said. It also uncovered details on another kind of surface feature that may be related to shrinkage. These “wrinkle ridges” are less pronounced than the lobate scarps but may also have formed during contraction. Combined, the data on the lobate scarps and the wrinkle ridges suggest that Mercury’s diameter (直径) has shrunk by 11.4 kilometers, Byrne said.

Writing a book is a long and challenging process, but new technology is increasingly making it easier for authors to finish their books.

Michael Green, a US data scientist-turned-novelist, felt that technology could help him simplify the writing process when he was in the middle of writing his debut (首部) book.

He said that the process had become difficult to manage: “In the midst of editing, I got to the point where I started feeling like I had a lot of plots and characters,” he told the BBC. “I had all these documents on the deeper aspects of the world I was creating. I was worried about being able to keep track of it all. That’s when I switched into my more data science-minded approach to solving a complex problem with a lot of different pieces.”

Green went on to create Lynit, a digital platform to help authors plan and weave together the many elements that form a story, such as themes, characters, and major events.

“As the author gets a new idea that they want to bring into the story, they are able to input it into a natural framework,” he told the BBC. “Piece by piece, they’re adding to the story. As new ideas come in, they change, maybe by creating new nodes (节点), new relationships.”

Once the book has been published, technology is also playing an ever-increasing role in publicity and connecting with readers. Websites and apps from specialist firms allow authors to participate in live question-and-answer sessions with their audience.

Another tech firm, Crazy Maple Studios in California, US, offers authors four apps that can add music, animation, sound effects and in some cases, gameplay.

Michael Green believes technology will become even more important as a new generation of tech-savvy (精通技术的) writers becomes more well-known.

“What I’m finding with the Generation Z and even younger writers is that they’re looking for technology to give them guidance,” he told the BBC. “They see it as a tool to learn and grow with, rather than extra work.”