On a clear day, West Lake’s rippling light makes a beautiful scene; when rain falls, distant mountains blur in watery mist, revealing a different kind of wonder.

If West Lake were compared to the beauty Xi Shi, it would look equally lovely and fitting in either light makeup or rich adornment.

饮湖上: drinking wine on the lake. 初晴后雨: clear weather at first, followed by rain. This is the second poem in a pair, written by Su Shi.

潋滟: rippling water shimmering with reflected light. 方: just, precisely. 晴方好: the lake's radiance is just beautiful in fine weather.

空蒙: hazy and indistinct in misty rain; transmitted versions also write it as 空濛. 亦: also. 奇: marvelous, with a distinctive charm.

欲把: wishing to make a comparison. Volume Three of A Thousand Poets on Wikisource reads 若把, “if one were to compare”; this entry uses 欲把 from another verified educational source text. The meanings are similar.

西子: Xi Shi, a beauty from the state of Yue during the Spring and Autumn period. Here she serves as a comparison for beauty; this is not an account of Xi Shi herself visiting West Lake.

淡妆浓抹: light or rich makeup, a metaphor for the lake and mountains’ different beauty in sunshine and rain. 总相宜: fitting and becoming in every guise.

Reading guide: Begin by noticing how the weather changes the way the lake and mountains are seen. Sunlight makes the rippling water brilliant; rain makes the distant mountains hazy. Neither competes to be the sole standard of beauty. The poem’s second half compares these changes to Xi Shi’s different styles of makeup, turning the shifting scene into a lively aesthetic judgment. It celebrates West Lake’s natural grace, rather than telling a story of a beauty touring the lake.

The opening places the water’s radiance before our eyes: “潋滟” suggests tiny, ceaseless flashes of light. The next line shifts the gaze toward the mountains, where “空蒙” makes once-clear outlines turn faint and elusive. One emerges through light, the other recedes into rain and mist. Sun and rain thus become two visible textures of space, rather than merely successive weather conditions stated in the title. Both “方好” (“just lovely”) and “亦奇” (“also wondrous”) are affirmative; the later line does not overturn the earlier one, and the observer’s delight survives the rain.

When the poem turns to Xizi, the comparison does not match objects one by one, insisting that a particular mountain is an eyebrow or a stretch of water an eye. It captures an overall grace that remains beautiful whatever the adornment, allowing West Lake to expand beyond a single scene at a single moment. Light and rich makeup stand in opposition, while “总” (“always”) embraces both extremes, making the closing line lively and expansive. Readers may associate the delicate rainy scene and vivid sunshine with different kinds of makeup, without assigning a fixed style to every weather condition. The poem’s pleasure lies in the feeling that change is no flaw and appreciation can renew itself with change. This feeling arises naturally from the lake and mountains, without an added lengthy argument.