The King of Chu Dreams of the Rain Goddess

By Zhang Zao

Trans. by Zuo Fei & Jennifer Fossenbell

I want to enter into the dreams of someone from the bygone days

where separate raindrops share the same floating cloud.

My heart wants to race just as maniacally.

The palace grows like spring leaves, the foam of wine leaps like fish,

let the one who drinks with me move my arms up and down.

My hand feeling my own pulse, the deserted courtyard breathing mist.

Alas, my dream is now dreaming of another dream.

Wild reishi on the dead tree, silk at the water’s waist.

The western moths probe the soundness of dusk.

Having left their house of seclusion, they must’ve seen

the one who softly and endlessly calls my name.

She who might fly and sing, ascend and fall,

give me jade to wear, could be a dubious dwelling.

She who for the rendezvous might be dripping.

Strange. On the night before it rained,

I already felt my whole body being drenched.

The verdant bamboo could’ve seeped water.

The wind from the valley blows into their innermost being

yet it was as if my ears were flying through the air,

or stopping to burn, to burn her,

who pretended to sleep deeply in a wet, low place.

And to burn her ears, burn them to dust,

so she wouldn’t overhear the hunger of my heart.

You see, the world inebriating me is full of wine

as is the bamboo with morning rays and time.

Their rustling is full of pain, so much pain,

the more pain, the more I want to peel it to reveal seven holes,

so my ailment is the world’s.

Inexplicable as you are, pay me no more mind.

I know you’re somewhere, playing with the wind.

The empty dream inside a dream, the false lotus leaves,

the dubious dwelling that causes me to toss and turn.

If the raindrops contain you, shall I not be the fire? They say

deities and men take different paths, but to the same destination,

and I want, I desire, I’m dying for your divine tears.

注解：以上英译首发于Spittoon Literary Magazine 第八期，由昨非、詹妮弗·福森贝尔译出。