LADY NEVER-GRIEVE GRIEVES, SINGING OF THE NORTHERN CH’I DYNASTY

Azure Dragon bright in the east, White Tiger in the west,

and in the center, an auspicious star guiding our affairs:

jar and river jade-pure—they laugh at a crystalline pool:

cutting a hole in heaven won’t lead to the Ox-Herd’s land:

when heaven’s warhorses go thundering across clouds,

Ox Mountain tumbles into pieces, loud as shattered coral,

and the eyes of autumn beauties glisten, but cry no tears:

of twelve old jade-pure towers—not a single nail remains:

mist pushed apart spits out a moon cast thousands of miles,

crimson wu-tung trees dying ten times over in single file:

white poplars, farewell rooms, ghosts mingled with people:

no point lingering out dark memories like silkworm paper:

the sun sets into a wind herding cut threads of silk away,

blood clots together, blood scatters away, and no one’s left.