Wang Wei
by Wang Baotong
The green is darkening in the autumn hills.
From dawn till dusk are gently flowing rills.
I, on my staff, beside my hut in the breeze
Enjoy hearing cicadas' evening shrills.
A setting sun is heavy on the ferry,
A cooking smoke from above the village flees,
And then our tipsy hermit comes, wild merry,
A-rolling, chanting by my willow trees.
王维
寒山转苍翠，秋水日潺湲。
倚杖柴门外，临风听暮蝉。
渡头余落日，墟里上孤烟。
复值接舆醉，狂歌五柳前。
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