I recall the glorious Xuanhe era of the great capital,
When peace reigned in every household, a joy akin to ancient times.
The emperor indulged in pleasures and carefree excursions,
Soaring winds and gentle airs filled the celestial thoroughfare.
The Azure Dragon heralded spring, setting the imperial carriage in motion,
Sunlight shimmered, casting brilliant patterns on golden thresholds.
Officials gathered at dawn for court audiences,
A bustling throng of nobles with jangling swords and pendants hastening.
The imperial guard moved, horses trotting back to the eastern gate,
The clamor of chariots and riders filled the air with shouts and calls.
Flutes and pipes blended in harmony, sending forth songs and wine,
Sightseers sought laughter, spending gold and pearls without care.
For one hundred and sixty years, peace held sway,
All foreign tribes faced inward, no wars to be waged.
Before the song had ended, the Rainbow Skirt dance still spun,
The northern troops pressed straight on, toppling the divine capital.
Vast and desolate, the emperor's host assailed the army's ramparts,
The six imperial dragons, uncontrolled, startled by clashing blades.
A dark rainbow crossed the sky, turning bright day into gloom,
The Central Plains transformed into a land of sheep and dogs.
Yellow banners drifted endlessly across the rivers Jiang and Han,
A hundred officials fled and hid in a corner of the sky.
From the southern pole to the lands of Wu, north to Yan and Ji,
West to Qin, east to Lu, remnants of Qiang and Hu tribes remained.
To this day, the calendar has turned three or four cycles,
The people scattered, grieving like nesting crows.
Each time I think of home, the Huai River stands as a barrier,
My restless heart wanders alone with the drifting clouds.
Spring winds swell white waves in the riverside city,
Cockcrows can be counted, houses can be climbed over.
War grips the nine regions, bereft of flowers and trees,
The haggard spring wind blows over empty, green desolation.