The land and the people both suffer
in the drought; farmers
wonder how they will
till the fields; everyone
thinks of the things dearest
to them; I worry about
my pines and bamboos, both
looking so dry and dead;
each day I am anxious about
them, servants water their leaves
and irrigate their roots;
then a dark cloud rises
from the east and
a refreshing rain falls,
as refreshing as washing the dust from your
face or shampooing your hair; trees
flash their green twigs
in welcome, I tell the people
their ten days' watering
is no match for one good
rain; now, too, I understand --
officials, tree planters
and gardeners are all the same; when
cultivating clean, decent hearts,
they create goodness all around them.
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