We go up north climbing the Taihang Mountain;
Alas, it's hard to move up the lofty treks.
Twisting and turning are the meandering narrow paths,
Wheels of our carts broke down on the steep crags.
Trees were shuddering bleak and chilly;
Groaning were the miserable northern wind.
Bears black and brown are crouching on our way;
Tigers and leopards are howling by the paths.
Few souls are seen in the river valley,
Whirling snow flying harsh on our faces.
Sighing and sighing am I,
Alas, onerous is the long-distance campaign.
Why am I so much worried?
How I wish returning homebase east.
No bridge is found over the river deep;
Wandering we are to find the right path.
Having gone astray,
At dusk nowhere to be found to tigh over the night.
Marching far away day after day,
Hungry are our men as well as the horses.
Soldiers carries back firewood on their marching bags,
And chiselled ice to cook gruel.
Recalling the melancholy poem 《Eastern Hill》(1),
The more grieved I became.
注(1)《豳风·东山》是中国古代现实主义诗集《诗经》中的一首诗。这是一篇表现战争题材的，抒情真致细腻的作品。此诗以周公东征为历史背景，以一位普通战士的视角，叙述东征后归家前的复杂真致的内心感受，来发出对战争的思考和对人民的同情
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