Search：孟浩然
Poetry
Mooring for the Night on the Jiande River
I move the boat and moor by a misted sandbar; the sun sets, and a traveler's sorrow is new again. The plain is wide, the sky hangs below the trees; the river is clear, and the moon comes close to a person.
宿建德江
Poetry
Spring Morning
In spring sleep, dawn arrives unnoticed; everywhere, I hear birds calling. Through the night came the sound of wind and rain— how many blossoms must have fallen?
春晓