$OSMO $OGN $BAT
The nation shattered, yet mountains and rivers remain;
Spring in the city, grasses and trees grow deep.
Moved by the times, flowers shed tears;
Grieving our parting, birds startle the heart.
Beacon fires have burned for three months;
A letter from home is worth ten thousand in gold.
My white hair, scratched, grows ever thinner;
It can scarcely hold a hairpin.