English Rendering
When the old crops have been consumed and the new crops have not been reaped,as a farmer in a famine year,I have many hard days in store.Without any hope for the harvest,I can barely make both ends meet.For ten days running,I have been hungry and weak.As the year draws to its close,I write this poem to vent my woeful thoughts.If I do not write them down,how can my heirs get to know!
I tasted shortage early in my youth
And hunger at senior age has brought much ruth.
Pleased with simple meals though they are crude,
How can I ever covet dainty food!
With only little foodstuff on my trays,
I wear the winter coats in summer days.
When the year is drawing to its end,
What distress and woe I apprehend!
Qian Ao provided porridge for the poor
But some starving man would not accept the lure.
There's no sense in rejecting food this way;
The man was starved to death and turned to clay.
Yet wanton craving is not what I boast;
I cherish honest poverty the most.
I do not mind the hunger and the cold
As I just learn from saints in days of old.
