She begins, and my grandmother joins her.

她唱了，外婆跟着也加入进来，

Mother and daughter sing like young girls.

母女俩唱着，仿佛年轻的女孩。

If my father were alive, he would play

如果父亲还活着，他会拉起

his accordion and sway like a boat.

他的手风琴，并像船一样摇摆。

I’ve never been in Peking, or the Summer Palace,

我没去过北京和颐和园，

nor stood on the great Stone Boat to watch

也没有站在那巨大的石船上面，

the rain begin on Kuen Ming Lake, the picnickers

看着雨落在昆明湖，那些游人

running away in the grass.

从草地上急急地跑开。

But I love to hear it sung;

但我喜欢听雨的歌唱；

how the waterlilies fill with rain until

睡莲如何被雨水浇灌，

they overturn, spilling water into water,

直至倾覆，水泻进水里，

then rock back, and fill with more.

然后再转过来，灌到更多。

Both women have begun to cry.

两个女人开始哭了——

But neither stops her song.

但都没有停止歌唱。