The whole poem:
There is no vulgar rhyme, and people love Qiushan. Fall into the dust net by mistake, for thirteen years. The cage bird is often attached to the past forest, the fish in the pool yearning for the past abyss. Open up wasteland in the south and return to the garden. There are more than ten acres of square houses and eight or nine grass houses. The willow trees cover the eaves of the house, the peach and the Li Lieman before the pre-hospital. The nearby village of the nearby village faintly visible, the village drift Ni smoke. A few dogs barked in the lane, and the mulberry tree was called with a cock. Houses are clean and miscellaneous, and virtual rooms have leisure. Long trapped in a cage without freedom, I finally return to the forest today.