In youth, I bought gallant spirit, sparing no gold.
Learned swordsmanship west in Qin, made friends north in Wei.
Qin and Wei had many heroes, unmatched in their time.
Though strangers at first, we felt a secret kinship.
Steeds with green silk reins, fox fur and sable robes.
Visited Ju Meng at dawn, lodged in Xianyang at dusk.
My word was my bond, known to all feudal lords.
Still thinking of battle tactics, I followed General Li.
Setting out from Baling, crossing the vast northern wilds.
North wind carried Chu songs, southern court saw Tartar steeds.
Tartar horses fat in autumn, invited for night siege.
Fierce fighting extinguished beacon fires, roads cut, rescue scarce.
White blades pressed all around, yellow dust flew unceasing.
Enemy riders' blood stained clothes, the Khan's tears wet his chest.
Returning triumphant to Cloud Terrace, claiming to be frontier hero.
But the general fell from favor, his troops gained no merit.
New men are not like the old, the old offer no aid.
Drifting ten thousand miles, a decade's plans came to naught.
Cast aside, hard to speak of, I ride through Hongmen.
Watching the Chu-Han strife, unaware dust dims the sky.
At midnight I stroke my precious sword, sing a sad song, dance alone.
This tune cannot end, and when it ends, tears fall like rain.