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On the 7th day of the third month, rain came on the way to Sand Lake. Without rain gear, my fellow travellers were all flustered. I alone was not bothered. After a while, the sun came out. So I wrote this.
Ignore it: the pitter-patter piercing through the woods,
pounding on the leaves.
Who cares?
Why not sing aloud and stroll along?
Light are the straw sandles and bamboo staff,
better than a horse.
In the fog, in the rain, in a hemp cloak,
imperturbe am I. **
A whiff of chilly vernal air blows me sober,
A bit cold.
Ah, but atop the hill we are greeted by the setting sun.
Look: whence we came, that sad and shivery place,
Let's go home,
There is neither sunshine, storm nor rain.
Translated
by Tommy W.K. Tao, Vancouver, B.C.
* Written in the spring of 1082. The poet had been demoted to Huangzhou as a result of his criticism of the drastic reforms implemented by then prime minister Wang Anshi.
** Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass, "Me Imperturbe":
Me imperturbe, standing at ease in Nature,
Master of all or mistress of all, aplomb in the midst of irrational things,
Imbued as they, passive, receptive, silent as they,
Finding my occupation, poverty, notoriety, foibles, crimes,
less important than I thought,
Me toward the Mexican sea, or in the Mannahatta or the Tennessee,
or far north or inland,
A river man, or a man of the woods or of any farm-life of these States
or of the coast, or the lakes or Kanada,
Me wherever my life is lived, O to be self-balanced for contingencies,
To confront night, storms, hunger, ridicule, accidents, rebuffs,
as the trees and animals do.
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三月七日沙湖道中遇雨。雨具先去，同行皆狼狈，余独不觉。已而遂晴，故作此词。
莫聽穿林打葉聲，
何妨吟唱且徐行。
竹杖芒鞋輕勝馬，
誰怕？
一簑煙雨任平生。
料峭春風吹酒醒，
微冷，
山頭斜照卻相迎。
回首向來蕭瑟處，
歸去，
也無風雨也無晴。
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