Song of the Wagons

 Wagons rumble rumble
 Hhorses whinny whinny
 Foot person bow arrow each at waist
 Father mother wife children go mutual see off
 Dust dust not see Xianyang bridge
 Pull clothes stamp foot bar way weep
 Weep sound directly up strike clouds clouds
 Road side passerby ask foot person
 Foot person only say mark down often
 Some from ten five north guard river
 Even until four ten west army fields
 Leave time village chief give bind head
 Return come head white go back garrison border
 Border post shed blood become sea water
 Warlike emperor expand border idea no end
 Gentleman not see Han homes hill east two hundred districts
 1000 villages 10000 hamlets grow thorns trees
 Though be strong women hold hoe plough
 Seed grow dyked field not order
 Besides again Qin soldier withstand bitter fighting
 Be driven not different dogs and chickens
 Venerable elder though be ask
 Battle person dare state bitterness
 Even like this year winter
 Not stop pass west soldier
 District official urgent demand tax
 Tax tax way how pay
 True know produce males bad
 Contrast be produce females good
 Produce female still get married neighbour
 Produce male bury follow hundred grass
 Gentleman not see Qinghai edge
 Past come white skeleton no person gather
 New ghost vexed injustice old ghosts weep
 Heaven dark rain wet sound screech screech 


 The wagons rumble and roll,
 The horses whinny and neigh,
 The conscripts each have bows and arrows at their waists.
 Their parents, wives and children run to see them off,
 So much dust's stirred up, it hides the Xianyang bridge.
 They pull clothes, stamp their feet and, weeping, bar the way,
 The weeping voices rise straight up and strike the clouds.
 A passer-by at the roadside asks a conscript why,
 The conscript answers only that drafting happens often.
 "At fifteen, many were sent north to guard the river,
 Even at forty, they had to till fields in the west.
 When we went away, the elders bound our heads,
 Returning with heads white, we're sent back off to the frontier.
 At the border posts, shed blood becomes a sea,
 The martial emperor's dream of expansion has no end.
 Have you not seen the two hundred districts east of the mountains,
 Where thorns and brambles grow in countless villages and hamlets?
 Although there are strong women to grasp the hoe and the plough,
 They grow some crops, but there's no order in the fields.
 What's more, we soldiers of Qin withstand the bitterest fighting,
 We're always driven onwards just like dogs and chickens.
 Although an elder can ask me this,
 How can a soldier dare to complain?
 Even in this winter time,
 Soldiers from west of the pass keep moving.
 The magistrate is eager for taxes,
 But how can we afford to pay?
 We know now having boys is bad,
 While having girls is for the best;
 Our girls can still be married to the neighbours,
 Our sons are merely buried amid the grass.
 Have you not seen on the border of Qinghai,
 The ancient bleached bones no man's gathered in?
 The new ghosts are angered by injustice, the old ghosts weep,
 Moistening rain falls from dark heaven on the voices' screeching.
"

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