English Rendering
The snow in Southern Valley is priceless indeed, I come there on horseback before it melts away.
Alone,I follow the trail in a cloak of reed, First to cross the ochre bridge at the break of day.
Who pities the homeless who have nowhere to sleep?
I find villagers hungry whose voices are low.
Only the crows at dusk know why I'm thinking deep, Startled, they fly and shed a thousand flakes of snow.
