| 英譯： |
Have you not seen
Galloping Horse River running
by the Sea of Snow,
The yellow of the sandy plain
going endless into the sky?
In the ninth month at Luntai
the wind howls at night,
And broken stones the size of ladles
on the broad river bed
Are caught up by the wind and scattered
pell-mell everywhere.
The Xiongnu grasses are turning to straw
and their horses fattening up;
West of the Golden Mountains you see
the flying smoke and dust.
The great commander of the Han
leads his troops out west;
He keeps his metal armour on,
even during the night.
At midnight the soldiers are on their way,
their dagger axes touching;
The wind comes at them like a knife,
cutting at their faces.
The horses’ coats are laden with snow,
and steaming with their sweat,
The manes of the dapples plaited in fives
quickly turn to ice
And as the call to arms is drafted
the ink in the field-tent freezes.
When the enemy horsemen hear the call
surely they’ll lose heart;
Reckoning up, they will not dare
to fight us hand-to-hand;
At the Protector-General’s west gate
we’ll wait for news of victory.
<Translation>
<Formatted Translation>
Have you not seen Galloping Horse River running by the Sea of Snow,
The yellow of the sandy plain going endless into the sky?
In the ninth month at Luntai the wind howls at night,
And broken stones the size of ladles on the broad river bed
Are caught up by the wind and scattered pell-mell everywhere.
The Xiongnu grasses are turning to straw and their horses fattening up;
West of the Golden Mountains you see the flying smoke and dust.
The great commander of the Han leads his troops out west;
He keeps his metal armour on, even during the night.
At midnight the soldiers are on their way, their dagger axes touching;
The wind comes at them like a knife, cutting at their faces.
The horses’ coats are laden with snow, and steaming with their sweat,
The manes of the dapples plaited in fives quickly turn to ice
And as the call to arms is drafted the ink in the field-tent freezes.
When the enemy horsemen hear the call surely they’ll lose heart;
Reckoning up, they will not dare to fight us hand-to-hand;
At the Protector-General’s west gate we’ll wait for news of victory.
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