*
Submit
Login
Links
Contests
Poems
Poets
Famous Poems
Famous Poets
Dictionary
Types of Poems
Videos
Resources
Syllable Counter
Articles
Forum
Blogs
Poem of the Day
New Poems
Card Maker
Anthology
Classifieds
Quotes
Short Stories
*
Contests
Poems
Poets
Famous Poems
Famous Poets
Dictionary
Types of Poems
Videos
Resources
Syllable Counter
Articles
Forum
Blogs
Poem of the Day
New Poems
Greeting Card Maker
Anthology
Classifieds
Quotes
Short Stories
Email Poem
Your IP Address: 216.73.216.185
From Email:
Required
Email Address Not Valid.
To Email:
Email Address Not Valid.
Required
Subject
Required
Personal Note:
Poem Title:
Poem
Eight month autumn high wind angry howl Sweep off my house on three layers thatch Thatch fly across river sprinkle river beside High ones catch stick great forest top Low ones float turn sink pool hollow South village mob children bully me old without strength Bear able to face to steal be robbers Openly carry thatch into bamboo go Lips burnt mouth dry call not succeed Return come lean on cane self sigh Soon shortly wind calm cloud ink colour Autumn sky overcast direction dark black Cotton cover many years cold like iron Beloved children badly lie kick in split Bed bed room leak no dry place Dense rain like hemp not yet stop sever Self path lose disorder little sleep sleep Long night wet wet what cause throughout If get broad mansion 1000 10,000 rooms Great shelter world poor scholar together joy Wind rain not move peace like hills Oh when see before sudden see this house My hut alone broken suffer freeze to death and satisfied In the eighth month autumn's high winds angrily howl, And sweep three layers of thatch from off my house. The straw flies over the river, where it scatters, Some is caught and hangs high up in the treetops, Some floats down and sinks into the ditch. The urchins from the southern village bully me, weak as I am; They're cruel enough to rob me to my face, Openly, they carry the straw into the bamboo. My mouth and lips are dry from pointless calling, I lean again on my cane and heave a sigh. The wind soon calms, and the clouds turn the colour of ink; The autumn sky has turned completely black. My ancient cotton quilt is cold as iron, My darling children sleep badly, and kick it apart. The roof leaks over the bed- there's nowhere dry, The rain falls thick as hemp, and without end. Lost amid disorder, I hardly sleep, Wet through, how can I last the long nights! If I could get a mansion with a thousand, ten thousand rooms, A great shelter for all the world's scholars, together in joy, Solid as a mountain, the elements could not move it. Oh! If I could see this house before me, I'd happily freeze to death in my broken hut!
Type the characters you see in the picture
Required