Classic Poem

On the river, every day these heavy rains—
bleak, bleak, autumn in Jingchu!
High winds strip the leaves from the trees;
through the long night I hug my fur robe.
I recall my official record, keep looking in the mirror,
recall my comings and goings, leaning alone in an upper room
In these perilous times I long to serve my sovereign—
old and feeble as I am, I can't stop thinking of it!