General Cao, fierce and keen in might,
His teeth could shatter iron and stone in fight.
Since childhood days, as people would recall,
He was known for mastering classics, learning all.
With brush he roamed, in writings soft yet strong,
Mixing cinnabar red and golden hues along.
Officials blocked the bright decree's command,
Our humble county lost this master of the pen's hand.
When spring waters bore celery's scent so fine,
With jade-like grace, he served at the banquet line.
He overlooked rigid text's shallow art,
Delving deep into reason's core, a searching heart.
Before his civil influence could fully spread,
The royal land grew narrow, as fate led.
A true man's wish to serve his lord with zeal,
Seeks not necessarily a noble rank's appeal.
With solemn gray, he asked to leave his post,
His face etched with autumn's stern and frosty ghost.
He rallied troops like bears and tigers, a fierce band,
Banners flying over the broad expanse of land.
Just as they honed their edge, in training's heat,
With one drumbeat, they crushed a formidable foe's defeat.
They camped by Mian River's source, a strategic hold,
A thousand miles of territory, sharp and bold.
Vast and mighty, they swept through smoky skies,
Securing the western peaks where danger lies.
But alas, the state lacked men of true might,
Pedantic scholars held the command, a sorry sight.
Rewards flowed into private doors, a selfish gain,
Strongholds handed to thieves, a nation's bane.
The general then raised his arm in protest keen,
But like the jade-carver's cut, he suffered, unseen.
The three armies watched their leader's plight,
Weeping bitterly beneath heaven's wall of night.
Success achieved, he met with strife and slight,
Anger bristling, his beard stood like halberds upright.
At midnight, drawing his sword, he rose in might,
With solemn grace, he readied his strong wings for flight.
His breath stirred wind and clouds, a fearsome sight,
Seizing flags, he broke through the enemy's tight line.
He pierced through realms of life and death in fight,
Trampling blood, turning heaven and earth to night.
Though outnumbered, the odds were stark and clear,
The contest's outcome not yet decided here.
With escape cut off, front and rear severed tight,
He fought hand-to-hand till his men's last might.
Who knew the dragon and tiger would pass away,
Leaving mountains and rivers dim and gray?
A million troops still trembled at his name,
Alas, Zhuge Liang's death brought the same fame.
The Great Wall crumbled from within its core,
A thousand miles of grief, a pain hard to ignore.
Those in power lacked foresight, a shallow lore,
But honest records in wild history keep the score.
Drunk with wine, we sing of men with steadfast will,
Under the bright, frosty sun, shining still.