自我來黃州，已過三寒食，年年欲惜春，春去不容惜。今年又苦雨，兩月秋蕭瑟。 臥聞海棠花，泥汙燕支雪。闇中偷負去，夜半真有力。何殊少年子，病起鬚已白。
春江欲入戶，雨勢來不已。小屋如漁舟，蒙蒙水雲裏。空庖煮寒菜，破竈燒濕葦。 那知是寒食，但見烏銜紙。君門深九重，墳墓在萬里。也擬哭途窮，死灰吹不起。
I’ve been outcasted, by the emperor, thousand miles away from home. Three years have passed， and again this is the same season to memorize the ancestors, when it awlays rains.
It’s a rainy and cold morning, which feels more like in deep autumn than early spring. Too weak and sad to get off bed this morning, I just stayed in and watched the cherry trees outside the window. The flower petals fall onto the muddy ground, which saddened me even more.
The non-stop rain is almost overflowing the river, which worries me that my little cabin could be turned into a floating boat. I firstly didn’t realize it’s the memorial day before a crow flied by my window holding an after-world bill with its beak.
Since being stranded in here for several days, I have not much food in the cabin, nor much wood log left for cooking. This away-from-home really drained all my energy, and tears too.