O youngest, best-loved daughter of Xie,
Who unluckily married this penniless scholar,
You patched my clothes from your own wicker basket,
And I coaxed off your hairpins of gold, to buy wine with;
For dinner we had to pick wild herbs
And to use dry locust-leaves for our kindling.
...Today they are paying me a hundred thousand
And all that I can bring to you is a temple sacrifice.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem