You live in front of the mountain and I live behind it.
You shot the eagle to catch the rabbit and rode through the alley; I mow the grass to feed the pigs and sing praises to the motherland.
You cast a net to fish and take a boat to Jiangnan; I choose stones to build a house and praise love.
You said, the saddle is gorgeous, the road is long and too stiff.
I was right. Although the sickle is fast, it will become thinner and thinner as time goes by.
You said, the boat is full of people, and it is still slow to drive with a whip.
I was right. Although the thatched cottage is small, it takes several years to take the stone as a giant.
You said that the motherland gave you everything; I was right. Maybe I can't give her anything.
You say you don't need love; I was right. I get pleasure from it.
You say glitz is too tiring, but I take pleasure in poverty.
What do you say, the change of heaven and earth?
I was right. I'm afraid daydreaming will shock me into a teenager and make me die of indulgence, and neither will you.