Classic Poem

Dwelling in poverty
I have few human contacts
And at times forget
the turning of the seasons
In the empty court
are many fallen leaves—
With pain at my heart
I know that Fall has come.
New sunflowers
shade the north window,
The ripe grain
enriches the southern acres.
do not take
this chance to be happy
How do I know that I
shall see another harvest?
Calling the children to me
I take them by the hand
On this fine day
let us climb and roam afar.