(clumsy handwriting)
The clothes of the Song people are more troublesome than the northern robes.
We live in Wu'an Village, herding cattle and sheep every day, and we go up the mountain.
Today, Jiang Cong taught me a poem.
(altered handwriting)
Silver bottle suddenly breaks, water and wine burst forth. Only the autumn moon in the river's heart remains moon white.
A poem about the pipa. Inside are my name and his.