<Header>
<Author: 杜甫>
<Title: 兵車行>
<Format: 樂府詩>
<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: THE CHARIOTS GO FORTH TO WAR>
<BookPage: 199-200>
<UsedPage: 2>
<Feature: 1>
<End Header>
<Poem>
車轔轔，
馬蕭蕭，
行人弓箭各在腰。
耶孃妻子走相送，
塵埃不見咸陽橋。
牽衣頓足闌道哭，
哭聲直上干雲霄。
道傍過者問行人，
行人但云點行頻。
或從十五北防河，
便至四十西營田。
去時里正與裹頭，
歸來頭白還戍邊。
邊亭流血成海水，
武皇開邊意未已。
君不聞漢家山東二百州，
千村萬落生荆杞。
縱有健婦把鋤犂，
禾生隴畝無東西。
況復秦兵耐苦戰，
被驅不異犬與雞。
長者雖有問，
役夫敢申恨。
且如今年冬，
未休關西卒。
縣官急索租，
租稅從何出？信知生男惡，
反是生女好。
生女猶是嫁比鄰，
生男埋沒隨百草。
君不見青海頭，
古來白骨無人收。
新鬼煩冤舊鬼哭，
天陰雨濕聲啾啾。
<End Poem>
<Translation>
Chariots rumble and roll; horses whinney and neigh;
Men are marching with bows and arrows at their hips.
Their parents and wives hurry to bid farewell,
Raising clouds of dust over Hsien-yang Bridge.
They pull on the soldiers' clothes, stamp their feet and cry out.
The sound of their crying is heard in the clouds.

Some passers-by speak to the soldiers,
They shake their heads dumbly and say:
"Since the age of fifteen we have defended the northern rivers.
Till we are forty we shall serve on the western front.
We leave our homes as youths and return as grey-haired men.
Along the frontier there flows the sea of our blood.
The King hungers for territory—therefore we fight."

"Have you not heard, sir,
How through the two hundred countries east of the Tai-yeng mountains
Through thousands of villages and tens of thousands of hamlets
Thorns and nettles run wild.
Sturdy peasant women swing the hoe and drive the plough,
But neither in the east nor west is anything raised or sown.
The soldiers of Ch'ang will fight to the end,
But they cannot be slain like dogs or like hens”.

"O sir, it is kind of you to ask me,
But how dare we express our resentment?
Winter has come and the year is passing away;
The war on the western passes is still going on.
The magistrates are pressing us to pay our taxes,
But where shall we get the money?
If only I had known the fate in store for boys,
I would have had my children all girls,
For girls may be married to the neighbours
But boys are born only to be cut down and buried beneath the grass”.
"Do you not see, sir,
The long dead ancient bones near the Blue Seat bleached by the Sun?
And now the lament of those who have just died
Mingles with the voices of those who died long ago,
And darkness falls, and the rain, and the ghostly whimpering of voices”.
<End Translation>
<Formatted Translation>
Chariots rumble and roll; 
horses whinney and neigh;
Men are marching with bows and arrows at their hips.
Their parents and wives hurry to bid farewell,
Raising clouds of dust over Hsien-yang Bridge.
They pull on the soldiers' clothes, stamp their feet and cry out.
The sound of their crying is heard in the clouds.
Some passers-by speak to the soldiers,
They shake their heads dumbly and say:
"Since the age of fifteen we have defended the northern rivers.
Till we are forty we shall serve on the western front.
We leave our homes as youths 
and return as grey-haired men.
Along the frontier there flows the sea of our blood.
The King hungers for territory—therefore we fight."
"Have you not heard, sir, How through the two hundred countries east of the Tai-yen mountains
Through thousands of villages and tens of thousands of hamlets thorns and nettles run wild.
Sturdy peasant women swing the hoe and drive the plough,
But neither in the east nor west is anything raised or sown.
The soldiers of Ch'ang will fight to the end,
But they cannot be slain like dogs or like hens”.
"O sir, it is kind of you to ask me,
But how dare we express our resentment?
Winter has come and the year is passing away;
The war on the western passes is still going on.
The magistrates are pressing us to pay our taxes,
But where shall we get the money?
If only I had known the fate in store for boys,
I would have had my children all girls,
For girls may be married to the neighbours
But boys are born only to be cut down and buried beneath the grass”.
"Do you not see, sir,
The long dead ancient bones near the Blue Seat bleached by the Sun?
And now the lament of those who have just died Mingles with the voices of those who died long ago,
And darkness falls, and the rain, and the ghostly whimpering of voices”.
<End Formatted Translation>