<Header>
<Author: 杜甫>
<Title: 悲陳陶>
<Format: 格式不明>
<Year: 1952>
<BookName: TUFU China's Greatest Poet>
<Translator: William Hung>
<TranslatedTitle: THE TRAGEDY OF CH'EN-T'AO>
<BookPage: 102>
<UsedPage: 1>
<Feature: 1>
<End Header>
<Poem>
孟冬十郡良家子，
血作陳陶澤中水。
野曠天清無戰聲，
四萬義軍同日死。
羣胡歸來血洗箭，
仍唱胡歌飲都市。
都人回面北向啼，
日夜更望官軍至。
<End Poem>
<Translation>
The blood of youths from the good homes of ten prefectures is now
Mixed in the Ch'en-t'ao marshes with the mud of early winter. The sky
is clear, and there is no sound of battle on the wide fields, For the forty
thousand bolunteers perished on the same day. The Tatars are now re-
turning and are cleaning their arrows. They are singing their barbarous
songs and drinking in the market places. The people of the Capital still
turn their weeping faces to the north; Day and night they hope the Im-
perial armies will again come.
<End Translation>
<Formatted Translation>
The blood of youths from the good homes of ten prefectures is now
Mixed in the Ch'en-t'ao marshes with the mud of early winter. 
The sky is clear, and there is no sound of battle on the wide fields, 
For the forty thousand volunteers perished on the same day. 
The Tatars are now returning and are cleaning their arrows. 
They are singing their barbarous songs and drinking in the market places. 
The people of the Capital still turn their weeping faces to the north; 
Day and night they hope the Imperial armies will again come.
<End Formatted Translation>