No matter how poor, don't exploit friends; no matter how rich, don't forget benefactors.
Once again, don't exploit friends; once again, don't forget the benefactors.
A horse bows before a humble gold; in a quiet night, a traveler rests in a small garden; in a roadside inn, the rain falls under the morning sun.
The light is dim, and the bamboo forest flows beside the stream; in the morning sun, one thinks clearly and contemplates the temple courtyard.
The light is deep, the courtyard faces four directions; in the evening, three drums echo the fading twilight.
When you meet your beloved, your love will last forever, not a knife; the bow is a harmonious sound, playing the zither.
Why seek a secluded garden with high walls? With three elders and flowers, what more is needed for company?
The master sits in this spacious place, leaning on the tombstone, reciting verses with reverence.
At twenty-five, he entered the door of a humble, ancient school; the pines still carried the fragrance of old forests.
In the autumn harvest, the fields are bustling with activity; they say, 'Return to the tide, welcome Comrade Wu.'
The horse gallops westward, entering and exiting; they say, 'Huan Gong pursues with a powerful empire.'
(Beautiful text, emotion, philosophy, circle of friends, three farming, chicken soup)
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Once again, don't exploit friends; once again, don't forget the benefactors.
