| 英譯： |
Forlorn since the rebellion, overgrown with weeds,
This village of over a hundred households is shattered;
Some still living, perhaps, but no longer heard of,
While many have returned to dust.
I come back after that disastrous defeat,
Following old trails, only to find the alleys deserted,
The sun dim, the air dismal,
Foxes and wild cats bristling, growling.
Of my neighbours none but a couple of old widows remain.
Yet this is my old nest; where else can I go?
So I start tilling the soil, it being spring;
And in the evening water the vegetable plot.
The local magistrate, hearing of my return,
Orders me to take part in the drills.
Service in my own county, yes,
And nothing worth taking with me.
Whether I stay in these parts or go far away,
I'm alone all the same and who cares what happens?
My native place is in ruins;
My mother dead, before my return.
I could not take care of her when she was living,
Nor give her a decent burial when she died.
Now, parting from this---a home no more,
I can't help asking :Is there nothing left for us poor people?
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