Through ancient realms, where roads meander wide,
Seven hundred Chang'an, in splendor does abide.
I bid thee, take delight in wine and mirth,
For thou, a noble, need not mock thy worth.
Her brows adorned like graceful wings unfold,
A raven beard, the game of fate untold.
In victory or loss, we share our plight,
But caution urges thee, beware the fight.
Alas, no solace on the roads of Chang'an,
Where cries of sorrow choke the throat of man.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem