茅屋为秋风所破歌

八月秋高风怒号
卷我屋上三重茅
茅飞度江洒江郊
高者挂罥长林梢
下者飘转沉塘坳
南村群童欺我老无力
忍能对面为盗贼
公然抱茅入竹去
唇焦口燥呼不得
归来倚杖自叹息
俄顷风定云墨色
秋天漠漠向昏黑
布衾多年冷似铁
骄儿恶卧踏里裂
床床屋漏无干处
雨脚如麻未断绝
自经丧乱少睡眠
长夜沾湿何由彻
安得广厦千万间
大庇天下寒士俱欢颜
风雨不动安如山
呜呼何时眼前突兀见此屋
吾庐独破受冻死亦足

máo wū wèi qiū fēng suǒ pò gē

bā yuè qiū gāo fēng nù háo
juǎn wǒ wū shàng sān chóng máo
máo fēi dù jiāng sǎ jiāng jiāo
gāo zhě guà juàn cháng lín shāo
xià zhě piāo zhuǎn chén táng āo
nán cūn qún tóng qī wǒ lǎo wú lì
rěn néng duì miàn wéi dào zéi
gōng rán bào máo rù zhú qù
chún jiāo kǒu zào hū bù dé
guī lái yǐ zhàng zì tàn xī
é qǐng fēng dìng yún mò sè
qiū tiān mò mò xiàng hūn hēi
bù qīn duō nián lěng sì tiě
jiāo ér è wò tà lǐ liè
chuáng chuáng wū lòu wú gān chǔ
yǔ jiǎo rú má wèi duàn jué
zì jīng sāng luàn shǎo shuì mián
cháng yè zhān shī hé yóu chè
ān dé guǎng shà qiān wàn jiān
dà bì tiān xià hán shì jū huān yán
fēng yǔ bú dòng ān rú shān
wū hū hé shí yǎn qián tū wù jiàn cǐ wū
wú lú dú pò shòu dòng sǐ yì zú

Eight month autumn high wind angry howl
Sweep off my house on three layers thatch
Thatch fly across river sprinkle river beside
High ones catch stick great forest top
Low ones float turn sink pool hollow
South village mob children bully me old without strength
Bear able to face to steal be robbers
Openly carry thatch into bamboo go
Lips burnt mouth dry call not succeed
Return come lean on cane self sigh
Soon shortly wind calm cloud ink colour
Autumn sky overcast direction dark black
Cotton cover many years cold like iron
Beloved children badly lie kick in split
Bed bed room leak no dry place
Dense rain like hemp not yet stop sever
Self path lose disorder little sleep sleep
Long night wet wet what cause throughout
If get broad mansion 1000 10,000 rooms
Great shelter world poor scholar together joy
Wind rain not move peace like hills
Oh when see before sudden see this house
My hut alone broken suffer freeze to death and satisfied

In the eighth month autumn's high winds angrily howl,
And sweep three layers of thatch from off my house.
The straw flies over the river, where it scatters,
Some is caught and hangs high up in the treetops,
Some floats down and sinks into the ditch.
The urchins from the southern village bully me, weak as I am;
They're cruel enough to rob me to my face,
Openly, they carry the straw into the bamboo.
My mouth and lips are dry from pointless calling,
I lean again on my cane and heave a sigh.
The wind soon calms, and the clouds turn the colour of ink;
The autumn sky has turned completely black.
My ancient cotton quilt is cold as iron,
My darling children sleep badly, and kick it apart.
The roof leaks over the bed- there's nowhere dry,
The rain falls thick as hemp, and without end.
Lost amid disorder, I hardly sleep,
Wet through, how can I last the long nights!
If I could get a mansion with a thousand, ten thousand rooms,
A great shelter for all the world's scholars, together in joy,
Solid as a mountain, the elements could not move it.
Oh! If I could see this house before me,
I'd happily freeze to death in my broken hut!