Getting News of My Brother
II
You are fearful and do not anticipate return;
I, grown frail, have not planned to go to you.
Baseless, the saying that magpies bring good news,
I have deeply betrayed the Poem on wagtails.
I have no pride in the way I live,
sources of care continue for years.
In the two capitals, thirty family members,
though we survive, our fate is like a thread.