2. Source: "The hut was broken by the autumn wind"
3. Full text
In August and autumn, the wind roared and rolled up my three hairs. Hair flew over the river and sprinkled on the periphery of the river. The highest one hangs a long forest tip, and the lower one floats to Shentang 'ao.
The children in Nancun bully me, and I can't stand being a thief in the opposite direction and openly carrying Mao into the bamboo forest. My lips are burnt, my mouth is dry, and I can't breathe. When I came back, I sighed at my staff.
In an instant, the wind will set the color of the clouds and ink, and the autumn will be bleak and dark. This cloth has been as cold as iron for many years, and Joule has been lying down and cracking. There is no dry place in the bedside table, and the feet are numb with rain. What's the point of getting wet all night?
There are tens of millions of luxury houses in Ande, which greatly protect the poor people in the world from the spring breeze and the wind and rain! Oh! When I suddenly see this house in front of me, I will freeze to death alone!
4. Translation
In August, it is already late autumn, and the wind is howling. The wind blew away several layers of thatch on my roof. The thatched grass flew across Huanhuaxi and scattered on the other side of the river. The high-flying thatch is wrapped around the high treetops, and the low-flying thatch floats and sinks into ponds and depressions.
A group of children in Nancun bullied me, so they had the heart to be "thieves" to grab things face to face and run into the bamboo forest with thatch in their arms. I'm thirsty and I can't stop drinking. When I came back, I sighed alone on crutches.
After a while, the wind stopped and the dark clouds in the sky were as black as ink. In late autumn, the sky becomes dark and foggy. This cloth has been covered for years, cold and hard, like an iron plate. The child's sleeping posture is not good and the quilt is torn. When it rains, the roof leaks, and there is no dry place at home. The rain on the roof keeps leaking down like hemp thread. Since the Anshi Rebellion, I haven't slept much. The nights are long, the house leaks and the bed is wet. How can I stay up until dawn?
How can we get thousands of spacious and tall houses, generally shelter the poor people in the world and make them smile, while the houses are unmoved in the wind and rain, as stable as Mount Tai? Alas! When will such a towering house appear in front of me? At that time, even if my hut is blown down by the autumn wind, I will willingly freeze to death myself!
4. Introduction to the author
Du Fu (7 12-770), with beautiful words, is called "Du Gongbu" and "Du Shaoling" in the world. Born in Fugong County, Henan Province (now gongyi city, Henan Province), he was a great realistic poet in the Tang Dynasty. Du Fu is regarded as a "poet saint" by the world, and his poems are called "the history of poetry".