Classic Poem

Drinking alone, I find it hard to get drunk;
reciting verse for myself, I vent my emotions.
I waited for a friend, but he hasn't come;
I cursed the rain, and it's about to let up.
Herbaceous peonies are still vernal enough,
but a cuckoo's call tells of early summer.
The day is long and I only want to sleep,
this garden room deep in green shade.