Bo Juyi, a great poet in the later Tang period (618- 907), paid close attention to the misery of the poor, Here is one of his poems.

An old charcoal seller

Cuts firewood, burns coal by the southern mountain.

His face, all covered with dust and ash, the color of smoke,

The hair at his temples is gray, his ten fingers black.

The money he makes selling coal, what is it for?

To put clothes on his back and food in his mouth.

The rags on his poor body are thin and threadbare;

Distressed at the low price of coal, he hopes for colder weather.

Night comes, an inch of snow has fallen on the city,

In the morning, he rides his cart along the icy ruts,

His ox weary, he hungry, and the sun already high.

In the mud...