Mountain and river, grass and tree, grow more barren;
for ten miles winds smell of blood in the fresh battlefield.
Conquering horses do not advance nor do men talk;
outside Jinzhou Castle, I stand in the setting sun.
Emperor's army, a million, conquered the powerful foe;
field battles and fort assaults made mountains of corpses.
Ashamed - how can I face there fathers, grandfathers?
We triumph today?