秋热 其二

The lingering summer heat, a tyrant fierce and bold,

Refuses to retreat, its cruel grip still holds tight.

The tender autumn, like a noble lord of old,

Withdraws and dares not face the tyrant's scorching might.

The cooling southern breeze, its coming none can tell,

Leaves people vexed and restless in this sweltering spell.

The oxen pant beneath the moon, parched and distressed,

Longing for autumn's god to bring them cooling rest.

When Metal's season rules, its power should be clear,

Yet summer's blazing fury stubbornly stays here.

How long has this gone on? I ask, but time is blurred;

The line 'twixt autumn and summer remains unstirred.

I dread the heat as one who fears a tiger's roar,

Cold sweat pours down my back, my spirit trembling sore.

From southern hills the thunder rumbles, deep and grand,

While rising clouds pile up, a dark and brooding band.

Who will petition Heaven, that ruler of the sky,

To wash the world's distress and cleanse the heat-drawn sigh?

Let wind and rain come sweep this torment clean away,

That such fierce heat may never again hold sway.