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306
? Ballad of the War Wagons
Noise of wagons. Cry of Horses. Every man carries weapons.
Wives and children run beside them, Mothers, fathers, gazing after,
Till the bridgeheadi? s drowned in dust.
Tug at cloth sleeves, clutch and weep. Wailing lifts to dark clouds.
When the watcher questions why, Answer comes, e? We are the levyi? .
At fifteen guard the Yellow River,
At forty work to feed the army.
Young the headman tied your headscarf. Old youi? re destined for the borders, Where the blood is spilt like rainfall, Where the Han still ask for more.
To the east two hundred places
Where a thousand farms lie fallow. Though strong women pull the plough now
307
? ? East and west are vanished furrows,
We who fight the toughest battles Driven on like dogs or cattle.
We have learned that sons are bad news, Better only to have daughters,
Who can marry, where their home is, When a son is dead and rotten.
By Kokonor along the shoreline, Whitened bones that no one buries,
New ghosts wail with those before them, Dark clouds gather to their howling.
308
? The Homecoming (from The Journey North)
Slowly we went on country roads, Smoke blew rarely on the breeze, Meeting some whoi? d suffered wounds, Weeping blood, they cried out loud. When I looked back to Feng-hsiang Saw the banners in pale light, Climbing upwards in cold hills,
Found where men and horses drank. Till below us Pin-chou Plains, Parted by the Chingi? s fierce torrent, Where the Wild Tigers stood,
And split the rocks when they roared.
Wild flowers in dull autumn, Beside stones smashed by wagons, Made my heart reach the clouds. Simple things give us joy. Mountain berries, glittering jewels Hidden in the densest tangle, Scarlet like the cinnabar sands, Black as if splashed with lacquer,
309
? ? Washed by the rain and dew,
Sour and sweet the fruits of nature, Bring to mind Peach Blossom Story, Not this life thati? s gone and wasted.
Downhill at last far-off Fu-chou, Scrambling through the rocky clefts, Down towards the riveri? s edge,
Leave the others far behind. Fieldmice, little guardians, upright, Listen for the owls in mulberry,
Like Men of Chi? in before the battle. Moonlight shines here on white bones. Once a million men positioned
Here to hold the Pass. How many Ever returned? There perished
Half of Chi? in, now wandering spirits.
I too drowned in alien dust. Back again now. A year on with whitened hair,
To a poor and simple house,
My dear wife dressed in rags, Who seeing me cries like rain,
310
? Or fountains bubbling underground. Herei? s my son, pride of my days, With face paler than Spring snow, Who seeing me turns and weeps, His dusty feet lacking shoes.
My little daughters by the couch Patched dresses barely to their knees, Sea-wave hems that fail to meet, Sewn with old embroidery - Nine-faced Tiger, Phoenix wings, Tacked on haphazardly.
311
? I say e? Ii? m still not myself.
Ii? m sick. Must sleep for a while. But therei? s something in my bag To keep you from the winteri? s cold.
Thick quilts tightly packed -
Inside them therei? s some paint and powder. i? My wifei? s thin face is beautified,
The girls, chattering, dress her hair,
Copying their happy mother, Colouring their clever fingers
Till the scarlet rouge makes eyebrows For two pretty little demons.
Alive! With my children! Home! Forgetting hunger, worry, pain.
All these questions fired at me,
Who could have the heart to stop them?
Thinking what Ii? ve left behind me, How the noise of love is sweet!
312
? ? 490? ? ? 7? 9903? ? 3? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? 03? %:? ? 019? 9? 0? ? 2507 ? ,? ? . ,25? ,9? ? 03? ? ? 8? ,3? ? ? ,;? 3? ? 4. . :5? 0/? ,? 548? 9? 43? ,8? ,? ? :3? 47? 411? . ? ,? ? ? ? 9? ? ,8? 349? ,? ? 70,9? 8:. . 088? 574-,-? ? ? 349? 9? 74:? ? ? ,3? ? ? ,. ? ? 41? ,-? ? ? 9? ? 43? ? ? 8? 5,79? ? -:9? 2470? ? ? ? 0? ? ? /:0? 94? ? ? 8? :3. 425742? 8? 3? ? /? 85? ,? 8? 41? 57? 3. ? 5? 0? ,3/? 247,? ? . 4:7,? 0? ? ? 0? ? 49? ? 420? 94? ? ? 8? 1,2? ? ? ? ? ? 42? ? 0? ? ,/? 349? 8003? 8? 3. 0? 9? 0? . ,5? 9,? ? ? ,/? -003? 4. . :5? 0/? 9? 0? 570;? 4:8? ? 0,7?
313
? A Visitor
Southwards, northwards, the Spring waters. Only flocks of gulls fly in each day.
The flowered pathi? s not yet swept for guests. The willow gate has opened first for you.
Iti? s simple food wei? re so far from the City.
In this poor house therei? s only stale rice-wine. If youi? re willing, I can call across the hedge. Drink it with an Old Neighbour of mine.
? 314
? For General Hua
All day long in Chi? I? ng-tu, Lute-strings, reed-pipes make music. Half of it lost - in the clouds,
Half of it lost - in the water.
But a song like this one
Is meant for the highest skies.
306
? Ballad of the War Wagons
Noise of wagons. Cry of Horses. Every man carries weapons.
Wives and children run beside them, Mothers, fathers, gazing after,
Till the bridgeheadi? s drowned in dust.
Tug at cloth sleeves, clutch and weep. Wailing lifts to dark clouds.
When the watcher questions why, Answer comes, e? We are the levyi? .
At fifteen guard the Yellow River,
At forty work to feed the army.
Young the headman tied your headscarf. Old youi? re destined for the borders, Where the blood is spilt like rainfall, Where the Han still ask for more.
To the east two hundred places
Where a thousand farms lie fallow. Though strong women pull the plough now
307
? ? East and west are vanished furrows,
We who fight the toughest battles Driven on like dogs or cattle.
We have learned that sons are bad news, Better only to have daughters,
Who can marry, where their home is, When a son is dead and rotten.
By Kokonor along the shoreline, Whitened bones that no one buries,
New ghosts wail with those before them, Dark clouds gather to their howling.
308
? The Homecoming (from The Journey North)
Slowly we went on country roads, Smoke blew rarely on the breeze, Meeting some whoi? d suffered wounds, Weeping blood, they cried out loud. When I looked back to Feng-hsiang Saw the banners in pale light, Climbing upwards in cold hills,
Found where men and horses drank. Till below us Pin-chou Plains, Parted by the Chingi? s fierce torrent, Where the Wild Tigers stood,
And split the rocks when they roared.
Wild flowers in dull autumn, Beside stones smashed by wagons, Made my heart reach the clouds. Simple things give us joy. Mountain berries, glittering jewels Hidden in the densest tangle, Scarlet like the cinnabar sands, Black as if splashed with lacquer,
309
? ? Washed by the rain and dew,
Sour and sweet the fruits of nature, Bring to mind Peach Blossom Story, Not this life thati? s gone and wasted.
Downhill at last far-off Fu-chou, Scrambling through the rocky clefts, Down towards the riveri? s edge,
Leave the others far behind. Fieldmice, little guardians, upright, Listen for the owls in mulberry,
Like Men of Chi? in before the battle. Moonlight shines here on white bones. Once a million men positioned
Here to hold the Pass. How many Ever returned? There perished
Half of Chi? in, now wandering spirits.
I too drowned in alien dust. Back again now. A year on with whitened hair,
To a poor and simple house,
My dear wife dressed in rags, Who seeing me cries like rain,
310
? Or fountains bubbling underground. Herei? s my son, pride of my days, With face paler than Spring snow, Who seeing me turns and weeps, His dusty feet lacking shoes.
My little daughters by the couch Patched dresses barely to their knees, Sea-wave hems that fail to meet, Sewn with old embroidery - Nine-faced Tiger, Phoenix wings, Tacked on haphazardly.
311
? I say e? Ii? m still not myself.
Ii? m sick. Must sleep for a while. But therei? s something in my bag To keep you from the winteri? s cold.
Thick quilts tightly packed -
Inside them therei? s some paint and powder. i? My wifei? s thin face is beautified,
The girls, chattering, dress her hair,
Copying their happy mother, Colouring their clever fingers
Till the scarlet rouge makes eyebrows For two pretty little demons.
Alive! With my children! Home! Forgetting hunger, worry, pain.
All these questions fired at me,
Who could have the heart to stop them?
Thinking what Ii? ve left behind me, How the noise of love is sweet!
312
? ? 490? ? ? 7? 9903? ? 3? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? 03? %:? ? 019? 9? 0? ? 2507 ? ,? ? . ,25? ,9? ? 03? ? ? 8? ,3? ? ? ,;? 3? ? 4. . :5? 0/? ,? 548? 9? 43? ,8? ,? ? :3? 47? 411? . ? ,? ? ? ? 9? ? ,8? 349? ,? ? 70,9? 8:. . 088? 574-,-? ? ? 349? 9? 74:? ? ? ,3? ? ? ,. ? ? 41? ,-? ? ? 9? ? 43? ? ? 8? 5,79? ? -:9? 2470? ? ? ? 0? ? ? /:0? 94? ? ? 8? :3. 425742? 8? 3? ? /? 85? ,? 8? 41? 57? 3. ? 5? 0? ,3/? 247,? ? . 4:7,? 0? ? ? 0? ? 49? ? 420? 94? ? ? 8? 1,2? ? ? ? ? ? 42? ? 0? ? ,/? 349? 8003? 8? 3. 0? 9? 0? . ,5? 9,? ? ? ,/? -003? 4. . :5? 0/? 9? 0? 570;? 4:8? ? 0,7?
313
? A Visitor
Southwards, northwards, the Spring waters. Only flocks of gulls fly in each day.
The flowered pathi? s not yet swept for guests. The willow gate has opened first for you.
Iti? s simple food wei? re so far from the City.
In this poor house therei? s only stale rice-wine. If youi? re willing, I can call across the hedge. Drink it with an Old Neighbour of mine.
? 314
? For General Hua
All day long in Chi? I? ng-tu, Lute-strings, reed-pipes make music. Half of it lost - in the clouds,
Half of it lost - in the water.
But a song like this one
Is meant for the highest skies.
