1.
Fleeting spring light, the quiet dark
Corner peeks out its eyes, lips, ears
Fine rain slowly crosses the water
Like writing, voicing, hearing a text
For which the world wakes.
2.
Ferns that live atop the roof
Furl the whispers of fine rain, exhaust
Pipes whimper at the sky, bent mouths
As though the horn were playing a soaking
Black cat. Dark clouds depart, silently
3.
Fine rain wanders the cracks of a brick wall
A blade of grass points the way
The glass window in the wall
Is a message board for the rain
Each word a mark of imagery passing
4.
A city mists in the distance
A traffic lane runs through my heart
Arriving in silence, a pilgrimage
Some feelings sail between my brows
Headed for the bridge of my nose, in unending rain
5.
In fine rain, every word is
An island, several islands form
A verse. The verse floats on the water’s
Surface, words drifting now together, now
Apart, an unstable chapter
6.
South winds blow, the wall
Sweats, the sky rains tears
The paper words I smudge
Mistakenly erasing my own
Image, leave only a shadow
7.
The book damp, the moss
More ravenous than silverfish
From my feet, hands, face
Executing fine rain’s pouring warrant
Until the dust jacket is dyed with moss
8.
Umbrellas undiscover people, people undiscover fire
The city curfews the sky in the rainy night
We cannot trace the stars, in the dark
We cut off our nails, lashes
And freedom for the dolls.
9.
Cherry blossoms and faces fall, peacefully
Draped over the ground, beauty sleeps
Butterflies trail after even a wasteland
Seeking the footprints of mourners in fine rain
The remnants beautiful even in trance
10.
Reality forces me, I can
Dream. Civilization invades, permitting
My desolation. Fine rain pelts
And I can be drenched
My language, too, has come down with bird flu
11.
Tonight hasn’t fallen, the sky is dark
Fine rain is starlight scattered
Before it goes out, I walk to the door
Open my umbrella, read starlight’s
Messages rippling the streets
12.
Disassembled parts still long to return
To life’s architecture, link the wings of birds
Keep the clouds in revolution, fashion the sky
Into a vast book. When the page turns
The fine rain in the book no longer falls.
—Su Shao-Lien, trans. Pearl Hwang