In ten years, I've ridden more than a thousand steeds,
But before the wind, this horse willingly concedes.
Old man, I share hardships with you, it's clear,
Ours is no casual meeting, but bond sincere.
I recall past days, hair graying in command,
The vast universe turned to a battlefield grand.
I directed brave men to slay bands of foes,
Striding through blood that on boots and robes rose.
In the stable, first ranked with nags and hacks,
Each night neighing to the wind till dawn cracks.
Roaring and prancing, it would not bear the saddle,
Only when I mounted, its spirit turned to cradle.
Like paintings by Han Gan or Cao Ba, famed and true,
Small ears, broad chest, iron hoofs that ring anew.
At Wu Dyke at dawn, we watched the sea tide surge,
At Ji Gate at dusk, on Yan Mountain snow we'd verge.
Through yellow clouds and withered grass beyond the Great Wall,
Meeting blue-eyed, curly-bearded men in awe and thrall.
A hundred couriers ran till breathless and spent,
Could not catch up, while we moved on, calm and unbent.
We drank deep, dead drunk, then marched through the night,
Without a tilt, the palanquin steady and right.
Now hair sparse, teeth blunt, both in twilight years,
Returning to Jiangnan feels like a life between tears.
I, idle, resigned from office, embrace solitude,
You, ill, by good vets, with cautery renewed.
Last year by West Lake, we sought plum blossoms fair,
Fitting that this old man and you still spry and rare.
On the road, which young gallant rides with pride,
With costly beauties, aiming for purple light to abide?
Tend well to fodder and beans, strive with all your might,
Stay with my remaining years, like Tian Zifang, day and night.