Classic Poem

Mountain road hard travel sun become slant
Mist village frost tree about to perch crow
Night return not arrive should be unimportant
Warm drink three cups reach be come
The mountain road is hard to travel, the sun now slanting down,
In a misty village, a crow lands on a frosted tree.
I'll not arrive before night falls, but that should not concern me,
Once I've drunk three warm cups, I'll feel as if at home.