The Yangtze and Han, a constant show of might,
The Miao people danced upon the steps in sight.
The southern tribes at times rose fierce and wild,
Through ancient times, awe and care reconciled.
Like ants deep-hidden in their earthen lair,
Or wolves that in the mountain forests dare.
The fallen kite fears miasma's deadly breath,
The蛊毒 wind厌弃 the fog of death.
All venom comes from sand-burrowing fiends,
The frog in the well its petty triumph gleans.
How near we were to yielding southern lands,
Almost abandoning Zhuya's distant sands.
The marshal led the army, full and grand,
The Son of Heaven fasted in the temple's stand.
Breaking the gate inspired a fervent zeal,
Who, bearing wings, would dare to shirk or reel?
Their bold spirit struck like thunder's crash,
Their vanguard roar like pouring rain in flash.
Wandering souls, you tribes of ancient strife,
Summon your courage, we stake our very life.
Across the wilds, we chased the flying bird,
Besieged the town till bones were all interred.
Children wailed in hunger, weak and frail,
Ghosts lamented with a bitter wail.
Like splitting bamboo, our sharp blades held sway,
Burning the plains left only scattered hay.
The whale upturned, its flesh enough to slice,
The fox dug out, no need to bury twice.
The royal strategy passed the Bronze Pillar's might,
Heaven's awe reached Gaoxie Street in light.
The Dipper's and Ox's stars shone brighter still,
The vast sea lay tranquil, without will.
Merchant ships brimmed with pearls and gems so rare,
Palace maids held hairpins with less care.
Ennobled with gold seal and ladle's grace,
The troops were feasted with wine like Huai's embrace.
Divine and martial, a thousand years in accord,
Joy and harmony, by all nations adored.
Success reported, auspicious days now told,
We gaze toward the sacred peak, where incense gold.