Poem by XIN QijiTranslated by East-sea Fairy
The wee hours you scrutinize your sword dear
even when you get badly blotto.
Waking up from a dream, you hear,
hear the calling of the army bulge all the camps echo.
Your hailing warriors heartily wolf down your churrasco.
The slogan song from the fifty-stringed instrument
gives a terrible shock to a foe.
Under the fair autumn firmament
you muster troops at the battlefront for a new movement.
As swift as Mars's steed
your charger darts on.
Your frightening arrows of thunder speed
make your foes frighten and frown.
For recapturing for the ruler many a lost town.
It's a great achievement
and you earned a lasting renown.
But gray hair is the only thing you got as reimbursement.
What an embarrassment!
Topic(s) of this poem: sword
Form: Spenserian Stanza
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.