Han Yu once chided the Wind Earl; / Today my friend reproaches the Responsive Dragon.
The Dragon hears, his ears prick up, / Swiftly rolls the sea and flies into the vast sky.
Dark clouds gather thick and fast, / Transforming the blazing sun into murky gloom.
Withered stalks in fields show signs of life, / As if a dying man met a skilled physician.
Ten thousand mouths gaze at the rainbow, moved with joy, / Often preparing sacrifices of boar and piglet.
Soon the weather clears again, / A light drizzle falls, not a drenching downpour.
O Dragon, why do you not strive harder? / As if by command, you swiftly withdraw your traces.
Does Heaven truly torment these people, / Unwilling to grant a bountiful year?
The multitude may not all be at fault; / Surely some bear the blame for this calamity.
I beg you, sir, do not chide the Dragon— / Chiding the Dragon is not without cause.
Drought and flood each have their summons; / The response is unfailing, like a great bell.
Heaven's clear mirror shines bright and stern; / How dare we neglect its power long and forget its deeds?
Should one seek to usurp authority, / And pour rain privately for certain farmers,
Divine wrath would arise in an instant— / Who would suffer the disaster of being minced to paste?
Take care not to mold clay into a coiling image, / Making a blue-clad boy dance wildly day and night.
Cultivate sincerity, vigilance, and awe to move all listeners; / Then morning and evening, abundant moisture will fill the world.