Ding Feng Bo Su Shi
On the seventh day of the third month we were caught in the rain on our way to Shahu. The unbrellas had gone ahead, my companions were downhearted, but I took notice. It soon cleared, and I wrote this.
Forget that prtter of rain on the forest leaves, Why not chant
a poem as we plod slowly on? Pleasanter than a saddle this bamboo staff and straw sandals. Here"s nothing to fear. I could spend my whole life in the mist and rain.
The keen spring wind has sobered me, Left me chilly, But slanting
sunlight beckons from high on the hill; One last look at scene behind And on I go, Impervious to wind, rain or sunny weather.
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