Listening to the Rain

From The Spectator, 10 August, 1991

Listening to the Rain
by Chang Chieh (fl. c. 1275)
translated by Graeme Wilson

When I was young I listened to the rain
On the Towers of Song:
Red candles glowed through thin gauze curtains,
Bedroom curtains, all night long.

In my prime of life, I listened to the rain
On the roof of a boat:
From the westering wind a wild-goose echoed
The exile's anguish dumb in my throat.

Now that I'm old, I listen to the rain
On the temple-tiles:
Hair flecked with white, I sit and wonder
Why meetings, partings, tears and smiles
Prove in the end to have had no meaning.

It is nearly day.
I sit and listen as the rain's pit-patter
On the steps below me dies away.