<Header>
<Author: 杜甫>
<Title: 兵車行>
<Format: 樂府詩>
<Year: 1989>
<BookName: 100 TANG POEMS 唐詩一百首>
<Translator: Zhang Tingchen & Bruce M. Wilson>
<TranslatedTitle: Song of the War Chariots>
<BookPage: 74-77>
<UsedPage: 4>
<Feature: 1, 2, 3>
<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, horses neigh, 
As they who must depart strap on their  $weapons$ 00. 
Mothers, wives, and children hurry to say farewell; 
In the dust, Xianyang Bridge cannot be seen. 
Clutching at clothes, stamping feet, 
Weeping and moaning, they block the conscripts' way. 
Their wailing fills the sky, and shakes the very clouds. 
Passing by ask them where they're bound; 
They can speak only of continual corvees: 
"One fellow at fifteen was sent north of the $Yellow$ River, 
And then at forty west to reclaim land 
When he first left home, the headman had to wrap his turban; 
Returning with locks of gray, he's off again, to the frontier. 
Although the border has become a sea of blood, 
The imperial desire for expansion never slackens. 
000 Of two hundred prefectures east of Mt. Hua, 
Thousands of villages grow only thorns and brambles.
Even if there are sturdy women to till the land, 
Crops are planted in the fields to no avail. 
Besides, we Qin make soldiers who are fierce in battle: 
We are driven forth like dogs, like chickens. 
Although, my reverend sir, you show concern for us, 
How dare a conscript complain? 
Just take this winter, for example: 
While soldiers ceaselessly were sent out west, 
Local officials still pressed us for the taxes—
How were we to find the wherewithal?" 
Now I've come to know that having sons is bad, 
And having daughters has become a blessing: 
While daughters leave home only to wed neighbours, 
Sons depart for distant, weed strewn graves. 
Haven't you seen, by Lake Qinghai, 
00 White bones that no one's gathered? 
New spirits join the old in lamentation: 
On dark days, in the wet rain, 
Their piercing wails resound.
<End Translation>
<Formatted Translation>
Chariots rumble, 
horses neigh, 
As they who must depart strap on their $weapons$ 00. 
Mothers, wives, and children hurry to say farewell; 
In the dust, Xianyang Bridge cannot be seen. 
Clutching at clothes, stamping feet, Weeping and moaning, they block the conscripts' way. 
Their wailing fills the sky, and shakes the very clouds. 
Passing by ask them where they're bound; 
They can speak only of continual corvees: 
"One fellow at fifteen was sent north of the $Yellow$ River, 
And then at forty west to reclaim land 
When he first left home, the headman had to wrap his turban; 
Returning with locks of gray, he's off again, to the frontier. 
Although the border has become a sea of blood, 
The imperial desire for expansion never slackens. 
000 Of two hundred prefectures east of Mt. Hua, 
Thousands of villages grow only thorns and brambles.
Even if there are sturdy women to till the land, 
Crops are planted in the fields to no avail. 
Besides, we Qin make soldiers who are fierce in battle: 
We are driven forth like dogs, like chickens. 
Although, my reverend sir, you show concern for us, 
How dare a conscript complain? 
Just take this winter, for example: 
While soldiers ceaselessly were sent out west, 
Local officials still pressed us for the taxes—
How were we to find the wherewithal?" 
Now I've come to know that having sons is bad, 
And having daughters has become a blessing: 
While daughters leave home only to wed neighbours, 
Sons depart for distant, weed strewn graves. 
Haven't you seen, by Lake Qinghai, 
00 White bones that no one's gathered? 
New spirits join the old in lamentation: 
On dark days, in the wet rain, 
Their piercing wails resound.
<End Formatted Translation>