English Rendering
Brightness of a high, small autumn moon
Shines northwards where the Great Wall meets the sea.
Distant fortress is the first to refill with light
As wind pushes cloud after cloud across the moon.
Marching soldiers gaze ever towards their home.
Warhorses skitter at their own wardrums.
Sadness of north wind lays flat the grasses,
Prisoners all on dark barbarian sands.
Frost covers the scabbards of the weapons.
Winds beat down the banners on the plain.
But, all day, paying our respects here at the palace
The sound of clashing copper mess pots goes unheard.
