Cao Cao

The wine, the song, life goes on —

But for how long?

It evaporates, to our dismay,

Like the morning dew, day after day.

Ambition and aspiration sustain me,

But a secret thread of grief worries me.

How can I brush it aside

But by drowning it in wine?

Scholars, scholars, where are you?

Years I have chanted the song of yearning —

But would you ever come over to me?

Deer are calling from the field, grazing

On the tender marsilea.

Let my house be graced with a learned visitor,

I will have music played in his honour.

But he is as bright as the moon,

And how could I make a moon stay?

Here my sorrows surface and swell,

And refuse to go away.

Talented friends, whom I love, I treasure,

For a rendezvous no journey is too long!

Would you mind coming, to our meeting,

To our feast, back to old-days' feeling?

The stars so dim, the moon so bright,

Southbound birds are flying, circling

Round and round over the tree —

On which bough are you alight?

The water can never be too deep,

And the mountain too high.

When an open-minded king calls for talent,

It is him the would must stand by.

East of Jieshi mountain, I gaze at the blue sea.

The water dances so gently, the mountain island towers.

Trees here grow thick, a hundred grasses are lush.

The autumn wind soughs, great waves rise up.

The path of the sun and moon, seems to come from within.

The splendid Milky Way, seems to come from inside.

Oh, I am so lucky, to be singing my song!

We climb the Taihang Mountain from the north;

The upward trek is harsh when we march forth.

The rough meandering footpaths twist and turn;

The wheel breakdowns bring us grave concern.

Before my eyes,the towering trees are moaning;

Above my head,the northern wind is groaning.

Bears large and small squat upon the trail;

Meanwhile tigers and leopards howl and wail.

Few people go into the deepest vales 

When heavy snows enshroud the frozen dales.

At this sight,I heave an enormous sigh 

Now that I know what zigzag treks imply.

Why am I in such a downcast mood?

About my journey home is what I brood.

When we face a river and no bridge is found,

We have to stop halfway and move around.

As we have moved around and lost our way,

Night will fall and we have nowhere to stay.

The farther in the mountains we go,

The more hungry men and horses grow.

The soldiers cut firewood from the trees

And cook the gruel with pieces of ice that freeze.

The Eastern Hill does not give me relief;

It is a poem that adds to my deep grief.

Heroes in the east rise in revolt,

Attacking traitors like a thunderbolt.

When they raise troops to put rebellions down,

They plan to meet again in the capital town.

As the troops cannot be of one mind,

They hesitate and therefore fall behind.

They begin to fight against each other 

And even plot against their own brother.

The younger brother ascends the throne 

While the elder keeps a seal of his own.

Meanwhile,the soldiers are beset by lice 

And the people suffer worthless sacrifice.

Dead bodies scatter in the open air;

Not even cockcrow is heard anywhere.

The high death rate is beyond belief;

At thought of this,I'm benumbed with grief.

Twenty kings have reigned in the House of Han,

But the former king employs a wavering man.

Like a monkey dressed in man's attire,

He is ignorant but tricky,a perfect liar.

As he hesitates to put rebellion down,

The king is then abducted out of town.

When the rainbow lies across the sun,

The evil omen means that his life is done.

Dong Zhuo usurps the power in great haste;

He kills the king and lays the capital to waste.

The House of Han is in peril during the clashes;

The ancestral temple soon is burnt to ashes.

The king has to move his throne to the west,

The people sob on the way,deeply distressed.

When I look at the former capital town,

I feel a pang of sorrow for the crown.