Climbing High

Du Fu (Tang Dynasty) The wind is swift, the sky is high, apes wail in woe; the isles are clear, the sand is white, birds come and go. The endless fallen leaves descend with rustling sound; the ceaseless Yangtze rolls its waves around. A thousand miles from home, I grieve autumn's plight; with many ills, alone I climb the height. My hard life brings frosty hair and vexation deep; now I've quit wine, my sorrows can't find sleep.