Mid-August. Evening. Rain falling.

八月中。夜晚。雨落下。

Cold, bright silk where the street fronts a house.

街道，冷豔的綢緞，橫於屋前。

Out back, it laves and slicks the parched leaves of the trees.

屋後，雨水洗刷粗燥的枝葉，

Ragged hang of summer’s end.

零落懸掛於夏日的盡頭。

I lean against the doorway of the poem,

我斜倚詩篇的門廊，

listening to the old patter.

傾聽雨聲啪嗒作響。

My cat, Zeke, lays himself out imperially.

（我的貓兒澤珂，帝王般舒展慵懶，

Eleven pounds of grey smoke

十一磅重的身軀，十一磅重的灰煙一團。

with tufted ears and a curved plume of a tail.

耳朵兩簇，尾巴一卷毛絨。）

Now, a slight wind,

此刻，微風一縷，

and The Emperor of Heaven’s chimes intone like distant bells,

天帝的風鈴吟誦如遙遠的鐘聲。

his court musician’s 4000-year-old pentatonic scale

天廷的樂師們彈響四千年古樂

pealing in slow, clear ripples.

樂聲泛起清澈漣漪。

Occasionally, a chord.

不經意，觸碰琴弦——

Every day I live I live forever.

我活在每一天我活在永遠。