English Rendering
When autumn comes to the frontier,the scene looks drear,
South-bound wild geese won't stay
E'en for a day.
An uproar rises with horns blowing far and near.
Walled in by peaks,smoke rises straight
At sunset over isolate town with fastened gate.
I hold a cup of wine,yet home is faraway,
The Northwest is not won and I'm obliged to stay.
At the flutes'doleful sound
Over frost-covered ground,
None fall asleep,
The general's hair turns white and soliders weep.
