西下峨眉峰。
为我一挥手，
Coming down the west peak of Mount Brow. He sweeps his fingers o’er its strings,
如听万壑松。
客心洗流水，
I hear the wind through pine-trees sough. A running stream washes my heart,
馀响入霜钟。
不觉碧山暮。
With evening bells its echo’s loud, I do not feel the sun depart
秋云暗几重？
From mountains green and autumn cloud.