Rain

Who can explain the rain

to my satisfaction?

It pours, it drizzles;

it sweeps my forehead

motherly cool while

I am staying in the trench;

it drowns the thirsty soul

of Skid Row; it rusts

time-minded Times Square.

Through a prism of carved

memory the raindrops are

apportioned to my hankering

for the translucent sun.

So I vision rainbows.

My childlikeness

travels forever.

雨

谁能把雨解释得

让我满意?

它狂狂地泼 霏霏地下

它如慈母的手

抚摸战壕中我的面颊;

他淹没流浪者

饥渴的灵魂;

他锈蚀了时代广场中

时间的钟摆。

透过记忆镂刻的结晶体，

雨点纷纷扑向我

渴望中半透明的阳光。

于是我看到彩虹;

我童稚的天真

永远遨游于湛蓝的太空。