O youngest, best-loved daughter of Xie,
Who unluckily married this penniless scholar,
You patched my clothes from your own wicker basket,
And I coaxed off your hairpins of gold, to buy wine with;
For dinner we had to pick wild herbs
And to use dry locust-leaves for our kindling.
…Today they are paying me a hundred thousand
And all that I can bring to you is a temple sacrifice.
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