Du Fu
flowers, as high as my window, hurt the heart of a wanderer, for I see, from this high vantage, sadness everywhere.
the Silken River, bright with spring, floats between earth and heaven, like a line of cloud by the Jade Peak, between ancient days and now.
the arctic court will not change, and bandits dare not venture from the western hills.
yet sorry in the twilight for the woes of a long vanished Emperor, talk to Liang Fu at sunset.
Deng Yueyang Tower
Du Fu
I had always heard of Lake Dongting, and now at last I have climbed to this tower.
with Wu country to the east of me and Chu to the south, I can see heaven and earth endlessly floating.
but no word has reached me from kin or friends, I am old and sick and alone with my boat.
north of this wall there are wars and mountains, and here by the rail how can I help crying?.
at heron lodge
Wang Zhihuan
mountains cover the white sun, and oceans drain the golden river.
but you widen your view three hundred miles, by going up one flight of stairs.
Going upstairs in spring, looking back
Kou Zhun
Looking at the tall buildings, it's a peaceful place.
there is no one crossing the wild water, and the boat will cross the sun.
decadence gives birth to a haze, and the ancient temple language is a warbler.
the old business is far away, and I am suddenly surprised when I meditate.