介绍:
Grieving Over Greenslope
Our army was at Greenslope, right at the eastern gate,
the weather cold, they watered their horses at pools on Mount Taibai.
Blond-heads and Xi lads daily moved farther west,
several riders bent their bows and dared to charge in attack.
Snow on mountain, ice on river, wind whistling on the moors,
the green is the smoke from beacon fires, the white, human bones.
How can I get to send a letter to our army—
hang on and wait until next year, don’t be hasty and rash.
