English Rendering
The proud Tartar sons are hunting out of the town;
White grass spreads to the sky, wild fire bums up and down.
They ride on the desert when evening clouds hang low;
In autumn days on the vast plain they bend their bow.
Our officers strengthen the defense by daylight;
Our victorious generals cross the river at night.
The swords, bows and bridles mounted with gems and jade
Are awarded generals and their brave cavalcade.