Li wrote an offending rhyme;
A ditty,
That the rulers found in time.

The taxer came upon me on (the) street
Idle chatter on no matter,
Perhaps greater (than I thought), because of later,
He sent thugs upon me to beat.

What became of Li poet;
The ditty.
Is frustration we know it,
What did ruler fear reading,
Did pity,
Come look upon his bleeding?

Four times four the came marching,
All in step,
Jackets black, buttons gleaming.
In upon him came just eight,
And outside,
The others were forced to wait,
By the alley door gnashing,
While others
Were inside roughly bashing.

The waiting ones not outdone,
Dragged the street,
And hung him for twenty suns,
Hung him by offending arm,
In public,
Where he had done all his harm.

On every fourth night they came,
And chopped,
Till on his hand none remain,
Little finger to his thumb,
They chopped
Till they’d gotten every one
Leaving just a thrusting arm,
Symbolic
As if raised to give alarm,
Or warning other poets,
Symbolic;
Now opinions all show it.
Praising as rulers govern
Or joining,
The One-Armed Poet’s Covin.