Years of wind and frost have worn away smooth feet and hands.
Farmers who are looked down upon by city people,
But gave us an eternal gift.
Gradually,
Missing is endless.
The sheep are still grazing,
The cow is still walking.
A pair of retractable skirting boards,
Stumbling behind.
Let that stubborn character dance with the land,
Until the end of my life.
No matter how beautiful the scenery in the city is, it is hard to compare with the mess in my hometown.
No matter how warm human feelings are, it is hard to compare with kind parents.
Let the seasons cycle,
Times have changed.
The wanderer has sorrow in his heart that he can't repay his parents.