Classic Poem

A melancholy day in the second month of autumn,
A whirling wind moans, the storm-tossed clouds are high
Living in the mountains you feel the seasons changing,
Far from home the traveler sings a long ballad.
The empty peaks are thick with frozen ether,
The leafless forest hung with icy winds.
Soaking dew wets garden and forest.
Thick leaves take farewell of wind-blown boughs.
I touch these mushrooms, sorry they will fall so soon
I pull down a pine-branch, glad that it endures so long.
Feast my line in woods and wilds,
I have my friendships far from market and court.
Gone now is the troubled heart I used to bear,
Surely I am not far from the banks of the river Hao.