The Tian family has less leisure in the month, and people are twice as busy in May. In the evening, the south wind rises and the wheat turns yellow. Mother-in-law is rich in food, and children are full of pot pulp. Go with Tian Xiang. Ding Zhuang is in Nangang. Filled with the heat of the country, the back was scorched by the sun. I don't know about the heat, but I regret the long summer. There is another poor woman with her son in her arms. Grab the ear with your right hand and hang the basket with your left arm. Listening to his words of concern is very sad. My family's taxes are gone, so I can take this to satisfy my hunger. Today, I have no merit, and I have never worked in farming and mulberry. There are three hundred stones in the land, and there is surplus food at the age of eight. I am ashamed to read this in private, and I can't forget it every day.
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Farmers rarely have free days, and every family is doubly busy in May. Last night, a south wind blew, and the wheat was covered with long ditches and brown. Women carry bamboo rice and small rice, and children carry crock pulp soup. After going forward, we drove the noon bus to the field, and the boys were working hard in Nangang. In the rustic summer, the spine is scorched by the scorching sun. I'm exhausted and I don't feel hot. I just hope this summer will last forever. There are even those poor women holding babies beside them. Right hand to pick up the lost ears of wheat, left arm hanging a broken basket. Listening to their conversation in a few words, I can't help but feel infinite sadness: "My family's income has been taxed, and this omission has suppressed the famine." What merits do I have now? I have never been engaged in farming and sericulture. If you eat rice with nine grades and three hundred stones, there will be surplus food for adults. I am ashamed to think of these things, and I can't forget them all day long.