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At a border-fortress – Wang Changling

Cicadas complain of thin mulberry-trees
In the Eighth-month chill at the frontier pass.
Through the gate and back again, all along the road,
There is nothing anywhere but yellow reeds and grasses
And the bones of soldiers from You and from Bing
Who have buried their lives in the dusty sand.
…Let never a cavalier stir you to envy
With boasts of his horse and his horsemanship


塞下曲·其一

出塞复入塞, 处处黄芦草。
从来幽并客, 皆向沙场老;
莫学游侠儿, 矜夸紫骝好。

2016-06-22

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