<Header>
<Author: 杜甫>
<Title: 茅屋爲秋風所破歌>
<Format: 格式不明>
<Year: 1985>
<BookName: SELECTED POEMS OF DU FU>
<Translator: Li Weijian>
<TranslatedTitle: My Cottage, Alas! Damaged by the Autumn Wind >
<BookPage: 158-161>
<UsedPage: 4>
<Feature: 4>
<End Header>
<Poem>
八月秋高風怒號，
卷我屋上三重茅。
茅飛度江灑江郊，
高者挂罥長林梢。
下者飄轉沈塘坳，
南邨羣童欺我老無力。
忍能對面爲盜賊，
公然抱茅入竹去。
脣焦口燥呼不得，
歸來倚仗自歎息。
俄頃風定雲墨色，
秋天漠漠向昏黑。
布衾多年冷似鐵，
驕兒惡臥踏裏裂。
牀牀屋漏無乾處，
雨脚如麻未斷絕。
自經喪亂少睡眠，
長夜霑濕何由徹。
安得廣廈千萬間，
大庇天下寒士俱歡顏。
風雨不動安如山，
嗚呼！何時眼前突兀見此屋？吾廬獨破受凍死亦足。
<End Poem>
<Translation>
It's the eighth moon; a howling wind descends
From the lofty autumn sky, sweeping away
The thatch of my cottage, scattering the straw
On the far bank across the river.
Some hanging high on the trees,
Some falling into the marshes.
Boys from the south village, well knowing I'm helpless,
Make bold to behave like robbers right before me,
Swaggering off with my straw into the bamboo groves.
In vain I shout till my mouth is parched,
Back in my cottage, I can only lean on my staff and sigh.
Then comes a lull, with dark clouds gathering,
The murky sky turning still darker with the fall of night.
My cotton quilt, hardened with age, cold as iron,
Is already torn, for my son kicks in his sleep.
There's nothing to stop the rain, no dry spot,
No sign of the swish and pelt letting up.
I've had little sleep since the rebellion;
How am I to pass the long wet night?
Would that there were thousands of spacious houses
To shelter all the poor scholars and ensure their safety
Even in the most furious storms!
Oh, when such buildings appear before my eyes,
I would not mind dying of cold alone in this damaged cottage,
No, I would die content.
<End Translation>