English Rendering
The moon chills the desert sands,
Dust settles on fortress walls—
This year, the emperor’s grace descends anew.
Fresh Tartar melodies rise,
Through felt tents, generals’ songs resound.
Tiered towers stand proud:
Crimson coils round carved rails,
Jade eaves pierce emerald skies.
Ladies fair,
Their powdered fragrance drifting down
On the thin, frost-laced breeze.
Here should dwell a poet-immortal,
Astride white clouds with yellow cranes,
To roam with you in joy.
Long I gaze from the jade stairs—
Only endless mournful grass remains.
This taste of the world’s edge:
Wine to purge my sorrows,
Flowers to dissolve my might.
Beyond the western hills,
As dusk descends,
A scroll of silk unveils—
Autumn’s crystal clarity.
