The poor remain poor if they don't learn, and the rich don't last long if they don't learn.
The poor, if they don't learn, remain trapped in poverty, and the rich, if they don't learn, don't last long.
Yet then, a gilded cornice, casually drew a throng of immortals into the mortal realm.
Strings of bamboo music lament for you, beneath the moon, what need to seek out ordinary blossoms?
What strength do you have to toil as a farmer? A faint green hue lingers on the distant lake mountains.
The moon hangs high, yet you remain a lonely guest, your traces lost in the crowd.
Yellow ribbons and purple robes, a frivolous game – such vanity will only bring you ruin.
You spend your evenings pondering days gone by, endlessly repeating the same patterns.
Three Farms, beautiful writing, chicken soup, positive energy
Reflect on your life, savor the complexities of human existence.
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The poor, if they don't learn, remain trapped in poverty, and the rich, if they don't learn, don't last long.
