Song Xin qi Ji
The thatched roof of the hut is low and small, and the stream is covered with green grass.
When you are drunk, your voice is charming and your hair is white.
The eldest son is weeding in the bean field on the east side of the stream, and the second son is busy knitting chicken cages.
I like children and scoundrels best, lying on the head of the stream peeling lotus flowers.