Stopping By to See Su Duan in the Rain
The rooster crowed, wind mixed with rain,
but after long drought, the rain is good.
Staff in hand, I went into springtime mud—
having nothing to eat got me up early.
I recalled the various households I have visited,
after a single meal my tracks were swept away.
But I have gotten to stop by Master Su’s place several times,
and he is always utterly overcome with delight.
He is surely a man to be cherished—
he calls to his son to prepare pears and dates.
Thick brew is always in his eyes,
utterly drunk, he gives vent to his emotions.
Red and thick, the flowers at the corner of his roof,
emerald and trailing, the plants at the corner of his wall.
Intimate with a guest, he chats and jokes freely,
his boisterousness[1] comforts one frail and old.
Even better, we receive this gift of streaming rain,
with grain I may survive.
My wife and children lie beyond military forts—
let us drop that question, I won’t speak of it.
单词释义
[1] boisterous [ˈbɔɪstərəsnɪs] n. 热闹; 充满活力;