Going up the mountain in bright daytime, we scan the sky for the torch of war. At yellow dusk, we drink water for our horses in the river on the border.
When the drums echoed in the sand wind, we heard the guitar of the Chinese princess telling her endless sadness.
Camp in Wan Li without battlements until the thick sky joins the vast desert in the snow.
The wild geese let out a plaintive cry, flying from night to night, and the Tatar children had many tears to shed.
But we heard that Yuguan was still besieged, and soon we put our lives on our light chariots.
Every year, when we bury the bones in the desert, no one will see us entering the Han family.