Rather than break my vow to plum blossoms
I have settled here in this disheveled hut
Grey sleet seeps through briars at my window
Plumes of snow dance around its papered panes
Steep scarps loom above frozen woods
Deep clouds conceal the pool’s icy stones
Such weather; I stoke up a few charcoal twigs
Wish for a way south, to Chiang-nan’s shore. – Shih-shu (17th c-early 18th)