His 'qin' and writing tackle must always be with him;
High rank and handsome salary—what is the good of that?
Rejecting imperial carriage, he followed his virtuous wife;
Instead of many privileges, he had gotten his filial son.
The wind blows, drying the wheat fields;
The waters overflow, keeping full the fishpond.
I often think of those little wrens,
Which manage to settle well on one single twig.
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