At fifteen I roamed the lands west of the Pass,
Choosing only fierce horses to ride.
West of Huazhou city, an iron-black steed,
Ten strong warriors could not hold it back.
Led into the courtyard, it would not stand still,
Rising on hind legs, neighing into the wind.
My heart swelled with courage, no fear remained—
I patted the saddle, stepped into stirrups, and galloped.
Down the long road I shouted, people scattering,
Waist steady as planted, body flying.
At the bridge, struggling for way, unchecked,
I leaned and nearly fell into the muddy ditch.
Suspended ten yards high, with one throw—
My hand lost the reins, yet its hooves still gathered.
Turning back, one leap already on the bank,
Only to see the road filled with sighs and awe.
The Guanzhong plains, grass and trees short,
All day wandering carefree, forgetting return.
Galloping freely, needing no whip or spur,
Advancing, halting, in tune with my heart.
Since then ten years, I've traveled south,
Alas, into whose hands has this horse now gone?
The watery lands of Chu, low and damp,
All ride boats; horses are treated like dogs.
My heart not old, but my body already frail,
In dreams and sleep, I still see it often.
Thinking of pictures, gazing at paintings, suddenly moved—
How much more, chanting your verses with fervor.
A wise man meets circumstances without confusion,
Rare treasures in this world are often hard to keep.
How can I simply be without feeling?
Scratching my head, I sing long, then sigh.