Classic Poem

White horses, all adorned with golden bridles,
On flying hooves go galloping northwest.
Who are the men who are riding these white horses?
They are wandering knights, who come from You and Bing
They left their native towns when they were young,
To make their names on the desert's sandy borders.
For many years they have gripped their trusty bows,
And held their redthorn arrows, both short and long,
Drawing their bows, they shatter the lefthand targets,
Shooting from the right, they wipe out the Yuezhi
They raise their hands to shoot those flying monkeys,
Then bend in the saddle to scatter the horses' hooves.
More cunning and wily they are than monkeys or apes,
Fierce and fleet of foot, like leopards or dragons
Many a time they have startled the border-towns,
And again and again defeated the slavish Huns
When the feathered summons from the north comes flying.
They spur their horses over the tall dikes
On the right they go galloping over the Xiongnu,
On the left turn back to trample the Xianbi.
They give their bodies to the mercy of point and blade,
Never for a moment do they think of their own lives.
They cannot spare a thought for father and mother,
Still less pay heed to their children or their wives
Their fame is written in the annals of the bold,
For selfish interests have no weight with them.
They die to save their country from its dangers,
And look on death as a sudden journey home.