A Song of the War Chariots: An Imitation of Du Fu

兵車行 - 杜甫

車轔轔,
馬蕭蕭,
行人弓箭各在腰.
耶孃妻子走相送,
塵埃不見咸陽橋.
牽衣頓足攔道哭,
哭聲直上干雲霄.
道旁過者問行人,
行人但云點行頻.
或從十五北防河,
便至四十西營田.
去時里正與裹頭,
歸來頭白還戍邊.
邊亭流血成海水,
武皇開邊意未已.
君不聞漢家山東二百州,
千村萬落生荊杞.
縱有健婦把鋤犁,
禾生隴畝無東西.
況復秦兵耐苦戰,
被驅不異犬與雞.
長者雖有問,
役夫敢申恨?
且如今年冬,
未休關西卒.
縣官急索租,
租稅從何出?
信知生男惡.
反是生女好;
生女猶得嫁比鄰,
生男埋沒隨百草!
君不見青海頭,
古來白骨無人收.
新鬼煩冤舊鬼哭,
天陰雨濕聲啾啾!

*Literal Translation*

The chariots thudded
The war horses neighed,
The men carried bows and arrows by their sides.
Father, mother and wife came for the farewell,
The dust storm covered the bridge to Han Yang.
Hanging onto the uniforms, stopping the march with cries,
The family cries shot straight through the heavens.
Pedestrians asked the marching soldiers,
But the soldiers only mentioned their frequent orders.
Some soldiers were conscribed at the age of fifteen to mend the river dikes,
And at the age of forty they were ordered back to the farming fields.
When they left the master wrapped their black haired heads,
But when they came back their hair was white, as they returned to the ruins.
By a far off pavilion is blood that formed into a sea,
Yet the emperor, eager to extend his boundary, was not satisfied.
Have you heard that in two hundred counties in the East,
Thousands of villages were ruined?
Even if there were strong women to take up the plough,
There was nothing that can be grown.
In other lands, the enemy was resilient in battle,
If one was captured, he would be treated worse than chickens or dogs.
The commander might have asked the soldiers,
But no one was willing to grumble.
Just like this past winter,
The soldiers at the border had no rest.
The governors urgently needed taxes,
But where could the revenue come from?
If people had known that to have sons was ruinous,
Then they would much rather have daughters;
At least when daughters married they would be next door,
But sons were to be buried in the wild meadows.
Can you not see that far away near the Green Sea
Since the ancient times no one buries the white bones?
New ghosts complained in anguish while old ghosts cried,
The heavens were soaked with heavy wailing of the ghosts.

*The Imitation*

The cartwheels creak, the horses neigh,
And men with bows display
Before the sobbing fathers, mothers, wives;
Their shades dissolve into the dusty gray.
A toddler clings onto his brother’s cloak;
His tears cannot disturb the gods’ buffet.
A few has heard the droning possessions
Or the commanders’ tedious instructions.
Men at fifteen are sent to river dikes,
At forty back to the burnt and ruined town.
Black is the hair upon their first command,
And white when glory becomes a mere noun.
Fountains of blood explode out of the earth,
Yet not enough to quench the emperor’s thirst.
Have you heard, that in a trifle distance on a map
Thousands of lives had their fortunes reversed?
If mothers bear the burden of the plough,
Still Nature, raped, will not produce her fruits.
The enemy resists our every blow;
Captives are forced fill their guts with roots.
Commanders condescend to ask
For grievances that soldiers mask:
Who dares to moan the winter snow
While marching far away from home?
And home: there taxations aglow,
Can you even find the sheep roam?
If people knew their sons were ruined,
Then daughters they might have wished for:
When daughters married, they would neighbors be,
But sons are buried in the echoes of war.
Can you not see that far away
The white bones rot to clay?
New ghosts complain in rage; old ghosts in tears:
The drizzles all of these complaints betray.