It seems like this is a poem written by a netizen
On the Qingming Festival in March, the cold wind invaded,
The sun was shining brightly but I didn’t feel warm.
The new soul of the ancient tombstone is about to die,
The curl of cigarettes sends my thoughts.
The firecrackers were deafening but I didn’t cry,
It was only because I was so sad that my tears had dried up.
The grass grows again when the spring breeze blows.
Why do people never come back when they leave?
Sprinkling wine and crying to ask the sky,
Looking down, I suddenly felt that my clothes were wet.