Song for General Zhao
November on Heaven Mountain, the wind like a knife,
South of the walls a hunting horse,
pelt matted short by the cold.
Our general gambles at chess, wins victory in every game,
And has won in the stake the sable-fur greatcoat of the Khan.
South of the walls a hunting horse,
pelt matted short by the cold.
Our general gambles at chess, wins victory in every game,
And has won in the stake the sable-fur greatcoat of the Khan.
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