The mountains are cold and blue now 
And the autumn waters have run all day. 
By my thatch door, leaning on my staff, 
I listen to cicadas in the evening wind. 
Sunset lingers at the ferry, 
Supper-smoke floats up from the houses. 
...Oh, when shall I pledge the great Hermit again 
And sing a wild poem at Five Willows? 

Added: May 20 2005 | Viewed: 436 times | Comments (0)

Poet: Wang Wei
Poem: A Message from my Lodge at Wangchuan to Pei Di

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