My friend has gone to a southern prefecture, To demand payment for
an inscriptional text. You have depended on writing for livelihood; But
you are the poorer for it. Weeds have overtgrown the entrance to your
wooden gate; Even the infrequent cooking smoke from your hearth has
ceased. Become not shamelss as you grow old. Come back. If you have
no money, you do not have to drink.