Elegy To the Uyghur Khaganate
O Glorious and Wise Empire of the East
Slaughtered by cold winter’s wrath and the azure dragon
For this world had no place to lay your gentle head
Your monasteries of light now some mists of black soot
Your masterful art now mere fragments burned by flames
Your songs to the sun and moon now dead whisps of the wind
Your glory was a brief shooting star in the night
You were a holy mountain, with rivers flowing
Rivers with elect sailing to the four ends of the world
Where trees and flowers sang songs of liberation
With your horses’ galloping being the sweet tune of life
Whispers of your bravery and wisdom still resound today
Your treasure, in the dragon’s nest, waiting to shine again
May another white shooting star enlighten the world again
O you Sovereign and Glorious Empire of the East
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