To His Friend, Wei, the Good Governor
You called for musicians, and the hall was gay: Our banquet table laden with wine cups and jars, And handsome files of men sitting with moth-eyebrowed girls, Our feast went on in the light of blazing cressets. Drunken, we danced amid the confusion of silken stools, And round the rafters hovered our clear song— So our revelry lasted till even after the dawn. But you returned to Hsing-yang, your official days over. What a multitude that gathered for the farewell rites, And those tents erected on the roadside near and far! Once parted, we were divided by a thousand miles, With our fortunes differing like summer and winter.
Summers and winters had come and gone — how many times?- And suddenly the empire was wrecked. The imperial army met the barbarian foe, The dust of the battlefield darkened sky and sea, And the sun and moon were no longer bright While the wind of death shook the grass and trees. And the white bones were piled up in hills — Ah, what had they done — the innocent people?
The pass of Han-ku guarded the imperial seat of splendor, And the fate of the empire hung on General Ku Shu. He with his thirty thousand long-spear men Surrendered, and opened the gate to the savage horde. They tamed the courtiers like dogs and sheep, And butchered the men who were loyal and true. Both the sovereign and the heir fled from the palace, The imperial prince, given the supreme command, [175]
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