I

What would I say?

I'm not a story teller.

This isn't an easy story to tell,

About the earthly dweller;

He loved the earth

And – for some time –

The earth loved him.  

Oh, and he was shy.

We'll meet him on his wedding day,

Treating his dad like a destiny's whim.

He didn't know the bride he'll get,

The bride the gods will give to him.

Maybe she'll be ugly?

Maybe – a pretty princess?

It doesn't matter,

He'll light some incense

For the almighty gods.

They're the power of the land.

If you'll suffer, or you're happy,

Say "thank you!" and be glad.

They aren't your father,

Nor you grandpa, rest assured.  

They are not a doll or ball

You can play with when you're bored.

The earth and the gods the same are,

Hear me say the things you must

To hear. Respect the gods, respect the earth.

If not – you'll be he last

To plant your seeds

And get the pay

For the hard work you did

The tense labor of the day.

Be assured, young friend of mine,

The gods are powerful – I say!

They made the love of Romeo and Juliet,

Though we're going bit too far. Yet

As terrible storyteller as am I,

Everyone knows that story.

No bad ends,

Don't you worry,

End will here at last.

Let's return to the simplest man

You'll ever meet. In far China he is,

Begging for a piece of meat.

As I said before,

It's his wedding day.

After a quick talk with his father,

He went away

To bring some food back home,

To his wedding feast.

After an expensive haircut

And many delicacies of the east,

He went to the Great House of Hwang,

To pick-up his pride.

O-lan was her name,

And his was Wang Lung.

 

II

All went so good,

They worked in the fields.

Wang Lung dealt with the money,

While O-lan bared him his kids.

Everything went well,

Again and again,

But no matter what –

It wouldn't rain.

And when the rain

Is late to come,

The drought –

This ancient scum

That bothers farmers

For decades still to come…

Well, as I said before,

The drought is after all a scum –

The drought will be soon

After long time without a single ,

And that's how

Wang Lung lost his big and wealthy crop.

They tried to stay in place,

Upon their land, their home.  

They didn't know that

The worse is still to come.

O-lan gave birth again;

The baby was not a boy.  

Oh, a baby's gender,

In China, is not a toy.

As the time went by,

The conditions went worst.  

Wang Lung understood:

This land can not host

Anybody for now.

They must leave, as sad

As it is. During the rush,

The thought the gods are bad

Crossed the mind

Of Wang Lung.

The incense stayed extinguished

As they exited the farm.

No thanks will the gods hear

From this simple farmer.

I thought the faith to him

Is armor.

But maybe I'm wrong.

For the matter of fact,

Wang Lung arrived to the town

And a very forced act

Has occurred.

Wang Lung is a rickshaw puller

From now. O-lan will beg.

No one is a ruler

On the strange

Curse of fate.  

Wang Lung loved the earth

And it was his faith.

 Some time passed by

In a miserable existence.

Wang Lung doesn't have time

To… Maybe, light incense,

Work in the fields, or

Chat with O-lan.  

He's pulling his rickshaw…

This is how life is in the big town.

Be calm, friends,

Be calm! All will be fine,

I'll tell you. I'm ready to bet on it

With a bottle of wine.

After long months of wait,

This thing is occurred:

The poorest people break into one house

Of the rich. The unrest is heard

All over the town.

And there was Wang Lung.

Though a bit painful, but it has to be done,

He must go back to the land!

So that's how he came back

To his beloved house. From the city's noise

Back to his land.

With the help of a small stash of coins.

Before, he had no money,

Now he has plenty.  

This is how things are done

In china of the turn-of-the-century.

 

III

So they came back,

Stronger and better.

Wang Lung didn't pry

To the god of the weather.

He preferred to put some aside,

If a drought like aforementioned will happen again;

If with it come famine,

And never shall rain.

After some time,

A flood came.    

For Wang Lung

Nothing is the same.

He started to visit

A new-fashioned tea house.

Oh, how much trouble

That tea house will cause.

Little by little,

Minute by minute,

He will meet Lotus

And it will be the zenith

Of his life, or that

What he'll think as the start.

I think it was the gods

That prepared him a trap.

From a touch to a touch,

Starry night by starry night,

The unhealthy relations

Of Wang Lung and Lotus got tight.

Soon she will move to his house,

A feet-bounded girl.

She took O-lan's treasure:

She is wearing the pearls.

Wang Lung is angry on O-lan.

For no reason, I think.

Lotus is more precious to him now.  

O-lan spend all of her life facing the sink

But he doesn't care!

Let's shorten this poet, Wang Lung

Doesn't deserve it. He was a farmer

And she was a slave.

 No fortune could change it.  

The lived together and worked, she fixed his rags.

He had a concubine and the house of Hwang.

They called it home.

 

It's all like the cycle of earth.

 

Seriously! I've read it on www.bookrags.com.