KING LEAR (orig.)
You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout
Till you have drench'd our steeples, drown'd the cocks!
You sulphurous and thought-executing fires,
Vaunt-couriers to oak-cleaving thunderbolts,
Singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking thunder,
Smite flat the thick rotundity o' the world!
Crack nature's moulds, an germens spill at once,
That make ingrateful man!
KING LEAR (trans.) Wind, blow and let your cheeks crack! Rage and blow! Pour out rain and wind, and drown the churches and the roosters! With your fiery and targeting lightning that can slice the oak trees—burn my white hair! And you, loud thunder, make our round Earth flat. Split out the molds and destroy the germs that make ungrateful humans!

FOOL (orig.) O nuncle, court holy-water in a dry house is better than this rain-water out o' door. Good nuncle, in, and ask thy daughters' blessing: here's a night pities neither wise man nor fool.
FOOL (trans.) Oh, uncle, doing this somewhere dry is better than being outside in this rain. Goodness, Uncle, let’s go and ask your daughters to forgive you—this night has no sympathy for both wise man and fool.

KING LEAR (orig.) Rumber thy bellyful! Spit, fire! spout, rain!
Nor rain, wind, thunder, fire, are my daughters:
I tax not you, you elements, with unkindness;
I never gave you kingdom, call'd you children,
You owe me no subscription: then let fall
Your horrible pleasure: here I stand, your slave,
A poor, infirm, weak, and despised old man:
But yet I call you servile ministers,
That have with two pernicious daughters join'd
Your high engender'd battles 'gainst a head
So old and white as this. O! O! 'tis foul!
KING LEAR (trans.) Thunder, rumble as much as you want! Spit out rain and fire! Rain, wind, thunder, fire are not my daughters—I don’t blame them for cruelty, because I never gave them a kingdom, called them my children, so they don’t’ owe me anything and may act like this. I stand here as nature’s slave—poor, sick, weak, and hated. Nature works under my joined daughters in this battle against this old, weak man! How sad!

FOOL (orig.) He that has a house to put's head in has a good head-piece.
The cod-piece that will house
Before the head has any,
The head and he shall louse;
So beggars marry many.
The man that makes his toe
What he his heart should make
Shall of a corn cry woe,
And turn his sleep to wake.
For there was never yet fair woman but she made
mouths in a glass.
FOOL (trans.) Someone who has a house to put his head in has a good helmet. If he finds a place to put his penis before he finds one for his head will have lice all over his head like many beggars do. A man that makes his toe do what his heart should do will cry and grieve with sleepless nights, because there was never a fair woman who didn’t like to dress up.

KING LEAR (orig.) No, I will be the pattern of all patience;I will say nothing.
KING LEAR No, I’ll be patient. I won’t say anything.

Enter KENT

KENT (trans.) Who’s there?

FOOL (orig.) Marry, here's grace and a cod-piece; that's a wise man and a fool.
FOOL (trans.) A graceful man with an ignorant one—a wise man and a fool.

KENT (original) Alas, sir, are you here? things that love night
Love not such nights as these; the wrathful skies
Gallow the very wanderers of the dark,
And make them keep their caves: since I was man,
Such sheets of fire, such bursts of horrid thunder,
Such groans of roaring wind and rain, I never
Remember to have heard: man's nature cannot carry
The affliction nor the fear.
KENT (trans.) Are you here sir? Even things that like the night don’t come out at nights like these. The wrath that the skies have scare the animals that usually prowl in the dark, making them stay in their caves. I have never heard such loud thunder so much rain, and such a strong wind. I don’t think that a human being can survive this affliction.

KING LEAR (original) Let the great gods,
That keep this dreadful pother o'er our heads,
Find out their enemies now. Tremble, thou wretch,
That hast within thee undivulged crimes,
Unwhipp'd of justice: hide thee, thou bloody hand;
Thou perjured, and thou simular man of virtue
That art incestuous: caitiff, to pieces shake,
That under covert and convenient seeming
Hast practised on man's life: close pent-up guilts,
Rive your concealing continents, and cry
These dreadful summoners grace. I am a man
More sinn'd against than sinning.
KING LEAR (trans.) May the Gods find out about those who are their enemies. Those people who committed secret crimes and has not payed the price should shake in fear now. You better hide now; you murderers, you perjurers, you evil people who pretend to be faithful. You dirty minded people full of furtive intensions! Your sins will be revealed.

FOOL (orig.) Alack, bare-headed!
Gracious my lord, hard by here is a hovel;
Some friendship will it lend you 'gainst the tempest:
Repose you there; while I to this hard house—
More harder than the stones whereof 'tis raised;
Which even but now, demanding after you,
Denied me to come in--return, and force
Their scanted courtesy.
FOOL (trans.) Where the hell is your hat! My lord, there's a hut nearby that will protect you from this storm. Rest there while I go back to your sister’s house and ask them for help. They are harder than the stones that this house of made of. Even now, when I asked them if they knew where you were, they wouldn't let me in. But I will force their courtesy.

KING LEAR (orig.) My wits begin to turn.
Come on, my boy: how dost, my boy? art cold?
I am cold myself. Where is this straw, my fellow?
The art of our necessities is strange,
That can make vile things precious. Come,
your hovel.
Poor fool and knave, I have one part in my heart
That's sorry yet for thee.
KING LEAR (trans.) I'm starting to lose my control. Come on, my boy. How are you feeling? Are you cold? I'm cold myself. Where's this hut, man? When you really need something bad, even the worthless things seem precious. Show me where that hut is. Poor fool, part of me still feels sorry for you.

FOOL (orig.) [SINGING]
He that has and a little tiny wit—
With hey, ho, the wind and the rain,--
Must make content with his fortunes fit,
For the rain it raineth every day.
FOOL (trans.) He who is smart must take what he can have because it rains everyday

KING LEAR (trans.) That is true my good boy. Let’s go, take us to the hut.

FOOL (orig.)This is a brave night to cool a courtezan.
I'll speak a prophecy ere I go:
When priests are more in word than matter;
When brewers mar their malt with water;
When nobles are their tailors' tutors;
No heretics burn'd, but wenches' suitors;

No squire in debt, nor no poor knight;
When slanders do not live in tongues;
Nor cutpurses come not to throngs;
When usurers tell their gold i' the field;
And bawds and whores do churches build;
Then shall the realm of Albion
Come to great confusion:
Then comes the time, who lives to see't,
That going shall be used with feet.
This prophecy Merlin shall make; for I live before his time.
FOOL (trans.) This would be a great night to fuck a whore
I’ll tell a prophecy before I go
When priest don’t act like they preach
When brewers spoil their beer by mixing water
When noblemen teach their tailors how to sew
When lovers are burned instead of heretics,
When all the law cases are given fair judgements
When there is no one in debt
When thieves don’t steal purses
When moneylenders count their gold publically
And pimps and whores build churches
Then England will be a great chaos.
And whoever lives until that day
Will use his feet to walk.
I merlin, will make this prophecy because I live ahead of my time.

ABOVE was done by Jaeho and Phoebe

The following section by Joon and Stephen

(original): Come to great confusion:
Then comes the time, who lives to see’t,
That going shall be used with feet.
This prophecy Merlin shall make; for I live before his time.
FOOL (translation): There will be great ruin. Then there will come a time, when those who live to see it will walk. Merlin will make this prophecy, but I am ahead of his time.