by Wang Chi-ching(poetry)

Cricket sang
The sense of space is real
The sense of time is limited to autumn
Cricket singing
Do not sing far away
To defend something near
The strength of the deep grass
There are a few broken tiles
Is a god-given refuge
To stretch yourself
Still have to sympathize
Sympathize with weak grass in principle
According to historicism
I have to fix my family tree
Passers-by threw down half a pie
Has become proof of ability
Hanging the clouds and sailing to the sea
Pie fragrant from the bitter cold
The weather is still a bit hot and humid