Press Ctrl + D (Windows) or ⌘ + D (Mac).
Song of the Six Prefectures: Meditations on the Northern Border
Dark campaign dust, sharp autumn winds, the quiet border cries.
My heavy spirit dies.
Recalling former days gone by, it was Heaven's will, not mortal hand:
The soil of ancient ritual and song, now foul with nomad scent.
Across the stream, felt tents expand; as setting sun descends, flocks roam,
And garrison posts stand thick on every side.
I watch barbarian chieftains ride through midnight hunts, their torches bright
As rivers gleaming in the night.
Flutes and sad drums begin to wail,
Striking the soul with dread and pale.
I touch the arrow at my waist, the rusting sword within its sheath—
All moth-eaten and lost to death. What have I achieved?
Time slips away, the heart beats bold in vain, the aging year declines,
Far from our sacred shrines.
Though martial dance might win the distant lands, and beacon fires be quenched at last,
The endless envoys gallop past—
What use is all this hollow show?
They say the elders of the northern plains still gaze toward the south in tears,
Watching for imperial flags across the years.
Let any traveler reach this spot, and faithful rage will swell his breast,
Until his tears pour forth oppressed.
征塵暗,霜風勁,悄邊聲。
黯銷凝。
追想當年事,殆天數,非人力,洙泗上,絃歌地,亦羶腥。
隔水氈鄉,落日牛羊下,區脫縱橫。
看名王宵獵,騎火一川明。
笳鼓悲鳴。
遣人驚。
念腰間箭,匣中劍,空埃蠹,竟何成。
時易失,心徒壯,歲將零。
渺神京。
幹羽方懷遠,靜烽燧,且休兵。
冠蓋使,紛馳騖,若爲情。
聞道中原遺老,常南望,羽葆霓旌。
使行人到此,忠憤氣填膺。
有淚如傾。
Campaign dust darkens, frost wind fierce, quiet border sound.
Dimly spirit freezes.
Chasing thinking past events, probably heavenly number, not human power, Zhu and Si rivers above, string and song land, also stinking of mutton.
Across water felt villages, setting sun cattle and sheep descend, forts crisscross.
Watch noble kings night hunting, cavalry fires one river bright.
Reed pipes and drums sorrowfully wail.
Dispatching men startle.
Thinking waist between arrows, scabbard within sword, emptily moth-eaten, after all what achieved.
Time easily lost, heart vainly robust, years about to decline.
Vastly divine capital.
Shields and feathers just懷 far, quiet beacon fires, for now rest troops.
Caps and carriages envoys, bustling galloping, how for feeling.
Hear said Central Plains surviving elders, constantly southward gaze, feather-canopies rainbow banners.
Cause travelers arrive here, loyal indignation breath fills chest.
Have tears like pouring.