In the past I was poor enough—
Today I’ve reached the bottom
Of abject poverty and hardship.
Whatever I do—
Nothing works well to me.
Each route I trail
Leads me to no avail. . .
Walking around in mud,
My feet are repeatedly stuck;
Sitting with folks,
I frequently suffer
From cramps in my guts.
Since I have lost my wild cat,
Which cast away
All sad thoughts in my head,
The old rat watches over my jug
With the last handful of white rice.
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Ron