<Header>
<Author: 岑參>
<Title: 白雪歌送武判官歸京>
<Format: 格式不明>
<Year: 1947>
<BookName: THE WHITE PONY: An Anthology of Chinese Poetry from the Earliest Times to the Present Day, Newly Translated>
<Translator: Robert Payne>
<TranslatedTitle: FAREWELL>
<BookPage: 183>
<UsedPage: 1>
<Feature: 1>
<End Header>
<Poem>
北風捲地白草折，
胡天八月即飛雪。
忽然一夜春風來，
千樹萬樹梨花開。
散入珠簾濕羅幕，
狐裘不煖錦衾薄。
將軍角弓不得控，
都護鐵衣冷難着。
瀚海闌干百丈冰，
愁雲黲淡萬里凝。
中軍置酒飲歸客，
胡琴琵琶與羌笛。
紛紛暮雪下轅門，
風掣紅旗凍不翻。
輪臺東門送君去，
去時雪滿天山路。
山迴路轉不見君，
雪上空留馬行處。
<End Poem>
<Translation>
The north wind sweeps over the land, twisting and breaking off the hoary grass:
The barbarian Weather brings the fluttering snow of early August.
As though overnight a small wind came to make thousands of pear-trees blossom.
These snow-flakes slip through pearl curtains and wet the screens,
The fox fur no longer warm and the silk coverlet too thin,
Benumbled with cold, the general can hardly draw his horn-bow.
But the border guards must still wear their freezing armour,
And icy pillars a thousand feet high pile high in the north ocean,
While overcast clouds hang curdled for ten thousand li.
Amid the booming of pipes and the squeaking of flutes,
The orderlies drink a toast in honour of the returning guest.
The evening snow whirls thick on the gates of the camp,
And the wind fails to move the frozen red flag.
Then, at the north gate of Lun-tai, I bid you farewell,
You who will go through the drifts of snow on Tien Shan.
I lost sight of you when you turned beyond the cliff,
Leaving only the footprints of your horse behind.
<End Translation>
<Formatted Translation>
The north wind sweeps over the land, twisting and breaking off the hoary grass:
The barbarian Weather brings the fluttering snow of early August.
As though overnight a small wind came 
to make thousands of pear-trees blossom.
These snow-flakes slip through pearl curtains and wet the screens,
The fox fur no longer warm and the silk coverlet too thin,
Benumbled with cold, the general can hardly draw his horn-bow.
But the border guards must still wear their freezing armour,
And icy pillars a thousand feet high pile high in the north ocean,
While overcast clouds hang curdled for ten thousand li.
The orderlies drink a toast in honour of the returning guest.
Amid the booming of pipes and the squeaking of flutes,
The evening snow whirls thick on the gates of the camp,
And the wind fails to move the frozen red flag.
Then, at the north gate of Lun-tai, I bid you farewell,
You who will go through the drifts of snow on Tien Shan.
I lost sight of you when you turned beyond the cliff,
Leaving only the footprints of your horse behind.
<End Formatted Translation>