Frontier song (Horses drink water crossing the stream)

Frontier song (Horses drink water crossing the stream)

Watering horses, we ford the autumn stream—

the water is cold, the wind cuts like a blade.

On the flat sands, the sun has not yet set,

dimly I can see Lin-t'ao in the distance.

In those days, at Ch'eng-ch'eng we fought—

everyone said our spirits were high.

The yellow dust stretches through past and present,

white bones lie scattered among the wild sage.

(This poem is entitled in one edition "Gazing toward Lin-t'ao.")