Rain Strike [Haiku]

rain strike seen
in ripples on the pond
before felt on skin.

Foresight [Senryū]

from the hilltop,
Spring downpour creeps nearer;
me, sans raingear.

“Wang Chuan Village After Rain” [积雨辋川庄作] by Wang Wei [王维]

Smoke slowly rises from sodden woods;
Millet 's steamed to feed the fieldhands;
Egrets fly over foggy paddies;
Hidden birds sing from lush tree stand.
Mountain hikers study hibiscus,
Under dewy pines chew sunflower seeds,
Give mat space to any old traveler.
Gull and I: wary of each other's deeds.

Original Poem in Simplified Chinese:

积雨空林烟火迟, 蒸藜炊黍饷东菑。
漠漠水田飞白鹭, 阴阴夏木啭黄鹂。
山中习静观朝槿, 松下清斋折露葵。
野老与人争席罢, 海鸥何事更相疑?

Cold Rain [Haiku]

cold rain
spatters on granite:
Spring enters.

“Spring Rain” by Natsume Sōseki

Spring rain:
a walk amid
wet willows.

Livestock Rush Hour [Haiku]

horde of livestock 
sprawls puddle-strewn lane
between downpours.

Turbulent [Haiku]

wind gusts & rain
turn the placid pond
turbulent.

Flower Fall [Haiku]

rain-laden blossom
falls… lands with a sound,
in the mud.

“Spring Rise” by Fan Chengda [w/ Audio]

In Spring, the waters rise --
Shore grass sways with breezes,
And geese drift right beside;
Boats glide as the stream pleases.
Yon pagoda looks far,
but feels quite close.

Streamside, one feels a chill.
Fields have yet to be plowed --
Not while the torrents spill.
Mulberry limbs are bowed.
Soon we'll have a taste,
and harvest cocoons.

NOTE: The title of this poem is 蝶 戀 花. Xu Yuanchong uses the quite literal “Butterflies in Love with Flowers” as his translated title. I chose differently because a wet Spring is the throughline of the poem and, well, there are no explicit butterflies (or flowers) in the poem [only their potential.] Of course, maybe that’s exactly why the original is a great title.

Rainy Autumn [Haiku]

the leaves are gone,
but the green of moss remains:
rainy autumn days.