When I die, don't weep,
Vain effort, wasted sound.
Just need four planks of wood,
Eight nails at the four corners.
Quickly dig deep and bury me,
The stench shouldn't linger in the pavilion.
In the tomb, no need for food,
Just three or five bottles of barley wine.
Often drink alone for joy,
When finished, pour more out.
I only wish to be forever drunk,
Calling Liu Ling to be my companion.
You say life is better than death,
I say death is better than life.
Life means dying in bitter battle,
Death means no one conscripts you.
At sixteen, do corvée labor,
At twenty, serve as garrison soldier.
Trudge forward in the desert,
Burdened by armor you must carry.
By day, seek a place to eat,
Every night fully know the watches.
Iron bowl filled with plain rice,
With comrades, argue for a share.
Constant hunger wants to burst,
Belly like a dug-out pit of poverty.
Leaving my child to suffer,
Kind mother, better not give birth.
Let's go back together,
This Saha world is not to stay.
Women due to heavy labor,
Men follow the march to war.
Carrying swords, ready to kill,
Meeting battle, they punish each other.
Generals die on horseback,
Soldiers perish in enemy camps.
Blood flows over the wilds,
White bones lie at the frontier.
Gone horses leave faint traces,
Only names on paper remain.
Passes and mountains stretch thousands of miles,
Their shadows cut off from hometown walls.
Alive, suffer the pain of sword light,
In mind, utterly terrified and anxious.