辛弃疾 破阵子 My Calligraphy

Dance of the Cavalry

Xin Qiji

 

Though drunk, we lit the lamp to see the glaive;

Sober, we heard the horns from tent to tent.

Under the flags, beef grilled

Was eaten by our warriors brave

And martial airs were played by fifty instruments:

‘T was an autumn maneuver in the field.

 

On gallant steed,

Running full speed,

We’d shoot with twanging bows

Recovering the lost land for the sovereign,

‘Tis everlasting fame that we would win.

But alas! White hair grows!

Done