I live in a place called Zhumysker

I live in a place called "Zhumysker" with a gentle river, I might pass by without seeing a steamboat, in a dilapidated boat on the shore. Not diving in water, not catching fish, parched on the shore, Answer me, dear official: What is the people's fault in this more? Neighbors are all lost in their sorrows, no one knows the other's plight, Not a single kin cares to inquire, what troubles the neighbors at night. A minister sits in the capital, deciding the fate of the land, Once rich from selling bottles to his neighbors' woes he turned his hand. Those who grew rich from selling bottles, how splendid you seem today, Like camels devoured by greed, you're like a worm, leading the way. But we can't blame them too harshly, calling them "ignorant fools," What else would they know of greatness, but from bottles and empty tools?