Song of the Old Army

Song of the Old Army

By day I climb the hill to watch the beacon fires,

At dusk I water my horse beside the River of Jiao.

The traveler beats his warning clod through wind and sand so dim,

The princess's pipa speaks of sorrow deep and grim.

Wild clouds stretch far—no walls or towns in sight,

Rain and snow fall thick, joining the desert's endless white.

The Hu geese cry mournfully, flying night by night,

The Hu children's tears fall in pairs, a pitiful plight.

I have heard that the Jade Pass is still blocked and barred,

So we must follow the light chariot, our lives thus scarred.

Year after year, bones of the fallen lie buried beyond the wild,

And all we see are grapevines brought into the Han household, reconciled.