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We march out
our hearts moved with emotion
as we hear, back in our camp,
the sound of flute and drum.
In front of us is bitterness;
the wild snows are endless,
at dawn they colour red and the reflection
shines back on our banners.
There will be lonely nights in deserts
with the beacons on our watch-towers
throwing their beams in answer to the moon.
I remember at the city of Chi
how the clouds lie along the city walls
like waves along our home sea-coast;
and full of longing for home, I, but a simple lad,
wonder if all this is necessary; why
must we lay down the pen and pick up
the sword?
（Rewi Alley 译）
Looking at Jimen in the Distance
Zu Yong
Once on the Yan Terrace, I’m astonished to hear,
The hubbub of the drums and the Tarter flutes from the barracks of the Tang Dynasty far and near,
Cold light comes from the vast stretch of snow white,
The lofty banners on the three frontiers flutter high up in the dawning light.
To the moon o’er Hun’s area the beacon fires on the battle-fields are soaring,
Jimen Town is guarded by the seaside mountains into clouds towering.
Though, when young, I didn’t give up pen for sword as Ban Chao did,
Yet to serve our country, I now beg to go to the frontiers to achieve deeds of merit.
（王福林 译）
