意
李颀
 
男儿事长征， 少小幽燕客。
赌胜马蹄下， 由来轻七尺。
杀人莫敢前， 须如蝟毛磔。
黄云陇底白雪飞， 未得报恩不能归。
辽东小妇年十五， 惯弹琵琶解歌舞。
今为羌笛出塞声， 使我三军泪如雨。
　
AN OLD AIR
Li Qi
 
There once was a man, sent on military missions,
A wanderer, from youth, on the You and Yan frontiers.
Under the horses' hoofs he would meet his foes
And, recklessly risking his seven-foot body,
Would slay whoever dared confront
Those moustaches that bristled like porcupinequills.
...There were dark clouds below the hills, there were white clouds above them,
But before a man has served full time, how can he go back?
In eastern Liao a girl was waiting, a girl of fifteen years,
Deft with a guitar, expert in dance and song.
...She seems to be fluting, even now, a reed-song of home,
Filling every soldier's eyes with homesick tears.