Song from "The Never-Ending Wrong"
F LIGHT
Clouds upon clouds of dust enveloping
The lofty gates of the proud capital.
On, on, to the southwest, a living wall,
Ten thousand battle-chariots on the wing.
Feathers and jewels flashing through the cloud
Onwards, and then a halt. The legions wait
A hundred li beyond the western gate;
The great walls loom behind them wrapt in cloud.
No further stirs the sullen soldiery,
Naught but the last dread office can avail,
Till she of the dark moth-eyebrows, lily pale,
Shines through tall avenues of spears to die.
Upon the ground lie ornaments of gold,
One with the dust, and none to gather them,
Hair-pins of jade and many a costly gem,
Kingfishers' wings and golden birds scarce cold.
The king has sought the darkness of his hands,
Veiling the eyes that looked for help in vain,
And as he turns to gaze upon the slain,
His tears, her blood, are mingled on the sands.
Clouds upon clouds of dust enveloping
The lofty gates of the proud capital.
On, on, to the southwest, a living wall,
Ten thousand battle-chariots on the wing.
Feathers and jewels flashing through the cloud
Onwards, and then a halt. The legions wait
A hundred li beyond the western gate;
The great walls loom behind them wrapt in cloud.
No further stirs the sullen soldiery,
Naught but the last dread office can avail,
Till she of the dark moth-eyebrows, lily pale,
Shines through tall avenues of spears to die.
Upon the ground lie ornaments of gold,
One with the dust, and none to gather them,
Hair-pins of jade and many a costly gem,
Kingfishers' wings and golden birds scarce cold.
The king has sought the darkness of his hands,
Veiling the eyes that looked for help in vain,
And as he turns to gaze upon the slain,
His tears, her blood, are mingled on the sands.
Translation:
Language:
Reviews
No reviews yet.