<Header>
<Author: 李白>
<Title: 北風行>
<Format: 格式不明>
<Year: 1922>
<BookName: THE WORKS OF LI PO>
<Translator: Shigeyoshi Obata>
<TranslatedTitle: The North Wind>
<BookPage: 138>
<UsedPage: 1>
<Feature: 1, 2, 3>
<End Header>
<Poem>
燭龍棲寒門，
光曜猶旦開。
日月照之何不及此，
唯有北風號怒天上來。
燕山雪花大如席，
片片吹落軒轅臺。
幽州思婦十二月，
停歌罷笑雙蛾摧。
倚門望行人，
念君長城苦寒良可哀。
別時提劒救邊去，
遺此虎紋金鞞靫。
中有一雙白羽箭，
蜘蛛結網生塵埃。
箭空在，
人今戰死不復回。
不忍見此物，
焚之已成灰。
黃河捧土尚可塞，
北風雨雪恨難裁。
<End Poem>
<Translation>
The lamp-bearing dragon nestles over the polar gate,
And his light illumines the frigid zone.
For neither the sun nor the moon shines there,
But only the north wind comes, blowing and howling from heaven.
The snow-flakes of the Yen mountains are big like pi-
llows,
They are blown down, myriads together, over the Hsuan-
yuan palace.
'Tis December. Lo, the pensive maid of Yu-chow!
She will not sing, she will not smile; her moth-eyebrows 
are disheveled.
She stands by the gate and watches the wayfarers 
pass,
Remembering him who snatched his sword and went to 
save the borderland,
Him who suffered bitterly in the cold beyond the Great 
Wall,
$(Him who fell in the battle and will never come 
back.)$
In the tiger-striped gold case he left for her keeping
There remains a pair of white-feathered arrows
Amid the cobwebs and dust gathered of long years—
0
0
$(Oh, empty tokens of love,)$ too sad to look upon!
She takes them out and burns them to ashes.
By building a dam one may stop the flow of the Yellow 
River,
But who can assuage the grief of her heart when it 
snows and the north wind blows?
<End Translation>
<Formatted Translation>
The lamp-bearing dragon nestles over the polar gate,
And his light illumines the frigid zone.
For neither the sun nor the moon shines there,
But only the north wind comes, blowing and howling from heaven.
The snow-flakes of the Yen mountains are big like pillows,
They are blown down, myriads together, over the Hsuan-yuan palace.
'Tis December. Lo, the pensive maid of Yu-chow!
She will not sing, she will not smile; her moth-eyebrows are disheveled.
She stands by the gate and watches the wayfarers pass,
Him who suffered bitterly in the cold beyond the Great Wall,
Remembering him who snatched his sword and went to save the borderland,
$(Him who fell in the battle and will never come back.)$
In the tiger-striped gold case he left for her keeping
There remains a pair of white-feathered arrows
Amid the cobwebs and dust gathered of long years—
0
0
$(Oh, empty tokens of love,)$She takes them out and burns them to ashes.
By building a dam one may stop the flow of the Yellow River,
But who can assuage the grief of her heart when it snows and the north wind blows?
<End Formatted Translation>