The Sorrel Horse
BY LI T'AI-PO
The sorrel horse with the black tail gallops, gallops, and neighs,
Lifting, curving his grey-jade hoofs.
He shies from the flowing water, unwilling to cross,
As though he feared the mud for his embroidered saddle-cloth.
The snow is white on the far frontier hills,
The clouds are yellow over the misty frontier sea.
I strike with my leather whip, there are ten thousand li to go.
How can I accomplish it, thinking of Spring in the Women's Apartments?
The sorrel horse with the black tail gallops, gallops, and neighs,
Lifting, curving his grey-jade hoofs.
He shies from the flowing water, unwilling to cross,
As though he feared the mud for his embroidered saddle-cloth.
The snow is white on the far frontier hills,
The clouds are yellow over the misty frontier sea.
I strike with my leather whip, there are ten thousand li to go.
How can I accomplish it, thinking of Spring in the Women's Apartments?
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