Blessings for rain

1. As the warm sun sets, I go down to the river and see fish swimming under the waves, and crows overhead reflected on the water. Everyone’s happy—small boys and old men. Deer are shy. Monkeys cry when they hear a drum. I talk with girls about picking mulberries. 2. Village girls put on red skirts and peer through the gate of a thorny fence to look at me when I come by. One girl is upset that another steps on her hem. These people offer sacrifices for the wheat harvest. Black kites gather to eat bowls of wheat. At dusk, I meet a drunk man lying on the road. 3. Hemp leaves outside the village shine with rainwater. In the village, silk cocoons being boiled fills the air. A woman spinning silk whispers over a fence. An old man leaning on a cane is drunk. His wheat is pounded into a paste for him. I ask him when the beans will ripen. 4. Jujube blossoms fall on us, one after another. Spinning wheels sing in all directions. An old man wearing a coir raincoat sells cucumbers. I’m tired; I’ve had too much to drink. I knock on a door at random to ask for tea. 5. On the road, a small rain keeps the dust down and brings out fresh blades of grass and sedge. It’s hard to quit farming when weeds won’t stop growing. The warm sun lights up mulberry and hemp; a cool breeze carries the smell of mugwort and wormwood. I was an envoy for only a while, but will always be a farmer.