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