Rains

When I was very young,
Rain was a course of economics.
Each day in the harvest season,
the forecast claimed there was rain,
but raindrops seldom made their appearance.

When I was young,
Rain was a course of politics.
Since farm work was impossible,
We gathered in the commune meeting room,
eying the performances of the country troupe; listening to the instructions of Chairman Mao.

When I was a young man,
Rain was a course of PE.
We played chess in the village barn.
I schemed to win my trainers.
None of us was a good player.
But I made it a championship.

When I was a man,
Rain was a course of English.
Having enjoyed VOA and BBC,
I took up my poetries and story books.
To start adventures with Tom Sawyer;
To hymn a ballad with Shakespeare.

When I was a married man,
Rain was a course of romance.
We dined at a smaller Round Table.
In my wife’s fond dream,
after rain the sunshine came.
The moonlight was wrinkling on eaves.

When I am now a middle-aged man,
Rain is a course of aesthetics.
Wheat ears, gatherings, matches, risks,
laughs and tears all merge into rains.

Moreover, I recall a deceased rural bachelor,
owing to poverty and physical defect，
He remained single in his lifetime.
In raining days he used to erect himself upright under the eaves of a temple.
Watching, gazing, staring and appreciating
the lady’s straw hats chasing in small drops.
(by Ma Huairong)