Zhou Yu, a youth of twenty-four years,
His world-renowned feat vanished with the fire's flare.
Leading thirty thousand, he routed Cao Cao's fears,
Not lamenting his fewer troops in the dire affair.
Liu Bei dropped his spoon, his courage torn,
In one day, two masters' brilliance made him forlorn.
Most pitiable is Huang Gai, unknown by name,
Officers and men relied on him, sharing the flame.
Young Zhou's fire attack was not a pre-set plan,
Like splitting bamboo, unforeseen by every man.
Greed for surrender invites disgrace, it's true,
In Huarong's mire, Cao's army nearly was through.
Since ancient times, campaigns have fatal grounds,
Lest they become the butt of laughing sounds.
Even if the arrowhead's sunk deep can be found,
How could the tripod's stand by schemes be bound?
The two Qiaos' spring confinement is but small talk,
From then, the sky's light split, began a new walk.
I've heard the Han traitor long stretched his hand,
Baring fangs to bite the South's rich land.
To engulf all realms, leaving none behind,
One strike made Wu's palace a swamp in kind.
Riding the victory, cavalry should descend,
To occupy the South of Chu, as trends portend.
Warships must fight upstream, holding the key,
How could the foe cross the ford, allowed to be free?
Wuchang's hegemony was within a pace,
Would he let the capital see banners' disgrace?
Su Dongpo visited, with meanings implied,
Who now mourns the spear-wielding hero's pride?
Thus using different sites to confuse the eye,
Lest errors arise and mocking comments fly.
In Canglang, June rolls up sunlit snow,
Vivid rivers, hills, and figures long ago.
How many of the scattered rocks remain?
Nests seem still there, startling birds in vain.
Deep night, watch sounds from four sides spread,
Stars fill the sky, all whispers dead.
I should don my purple fur robe, awake,
A lone crane south of Chu, at dawn by the lake.