Our Martyrs
(from the Nine Songs, Songs of Chu)
grasping Wu pikes—wearing rhinoceros armour,
chariot axles enmeshing—short-swords joining.
banners blotting the sun—foes like clouds,
raining arrows twofold—men eager to be first.
my formation scattered—my line trampled,
my left horses dead—my right sword-gashed.
a duststorm for two wheels—traces a team of four,
“reinforcements!” the jade drumsticks—“attack!” the drums call.
the heavenly hour resents us—the mighty spirit rages,
sternly slaying first to last—hometown fields abandoned.
going but not coming—departing but not returning,
the plains untended—the roads unending.
bearing long swords—clutching Qin bows,
heads and bodies parted—hearts still untried.
indeed both courageous—and accompanied by Wu,
staunch to the end—broken by none.
bodies stopped in death—both spark and spirit,
steadfast souls—heroes among ghosts.
国殇
屈原
操吴戈兮被犀甲，车错毂兮短兵接。
旌蔽日兮敌若云，矢交坠兮士争先。
凌余阵兮躐余行，左骖殪兮右刃伤。
霾两轮兮絷四马，援玉枹兮击鸣鼓。
天时怼兮威灵怒，严杀尽兮弃原野。
出不入兮往不反，平原忽兮路超远。
带长剑兮挟秦弓，首身离兮心不惩。
诚既勇兮又以武，终刚强兮不可凌。
身既死兮神以灵，子魂魄兮为鬼雄！