Classic Poem

Long and narrow, our land remained secluded
to the east of the Yellow Sea.
Through the ages we followed
the pure and honest ways of Chi Tzu.
For two centuries since the dynasty's founding,
we upheld the rites and justice,
and our civilization matched
the glory of Han, T'ang, and Sung.
But one morning
a million island savages
clashed with millions of innocent souls,
resolved to follow the glint of the sword.
Bones lay in heaps
on the plain,
majestic cities and imposing towns
became lairs for wolves and foxes.
Cold and lonely,
the royal carriage sped north
in the smoke and dust
that gauzed the sunlight.
The Ming emperor, marvelous and valiant,
cast a deadly roar
and cut down with a single sword
the wicked Japanese raiders at P'yongyang.
Like the wind, he spurred his troops southward,
pressing the enemy hard to the shore.
We did not storm the cornered pirates,
but besieged them for several years.
And to the east of the Naktong River
the pick of our army, like lofty clouds,
met a great tactician and general,
and, under his five brilliant virtues,
our soldiers became hunters of wild dogs.
The humanity and bravery of our heroes
blended with the eloquence of a mediator.
Peace settled again in the south,
and soldiers and horses gathered strength, waiting.
But one evening
a storm broke again,
and generals like dragons,
soldiers like clouds,
under the royal standard that covered the sky
spread out along frontiers myriad miles long.
Hills shook
with the battle cry;
generals led the van
and rushed the enemy
like thunderbolts in a tempest.
Callow Captain Kiyomasa
was in our grasp;
but tired soldiers,
in the trying rain,
raised the siege,
stiffened morale.
The raiders then ran in the four directions;
we may not catch them all alive.
Their caves,
once so strong,
are now heaps of ashes —
a natural fastness is not all in a battle.
Since the lofty virtue of the Son of Heaven
and the abundant favors of our king
extend far and near,
heaven punished the wily bandits with death
and manifested humanity and justice.
Was it yesterday that we sang of peace?
Even the idle
became his majesty's men,
fought desperately to repay his favor,
fought east and west for seven years
to lay down their lives for their country.
Today, once again, peace reigns over the land,
and we return to the willowed barracks
putting our spears aside.
Songs of peace
and drums and horns
are loud as the laughter of dragons and fishes
that reside deep in the Palace of the Dragon King.
Royal banners, too, in the west wind
flutter aslant,
like five-hued lucky clouds
hanging in the sky.
A scene of peace
spreads endless and happy.
Raising the bow, lifting the arrow,
we sing the triumphal chant
as if to outdo one another.
Our joyous song gathers in the emerald sky.
Overcome with joy,
with three-foot sword, keen and bright,
I lift my face and whistle a tune;
when I stand up ready to dance,
the magic sword that I lifted high
shines between the Plow and the Weaver.
Hands dance, feet leap,
naturally,
as we praise and dance the seven martial virtues
never wishing to stop.
Of all the joyous things in life,
is there anything like this?
Where is Mount Hua?
I'll dispatch the news.
Where are Heaven Mountains?
I'll suspend an arrow on it.
Now let's be
loyal and filial.
Idle,
I lie asleep in the camp
and ask
in what dynasty I live.
The golden days of Fu Hsi, of course.
As heaven does not send down a long rain,
the sun grows brighter.
The bright white sun
shines upon the world.
Old men scattered
in ditches and moats
return home
like swallows on the spring breeze.
Who would not feel happy
when they can't forget their hometown!
Tell me of the joy
of your return;
Oh, unscathed people,
think of the royal favor that saved you.
Under his profound grace,
brighten the five norms,
nurture the people to build up the nation's power —
they would then rise and march on their own.
Heaven, we know,
returned luck to favor us.
So we pray that you bless our dynasty,
that the royal house be endless,
that the sun and moon of the Three Dynasties
shine on the golden age of Yao and Shun,
that there be no more war
for myriad years,
that people till the fields and dig wells
and sing the praises of peace,
that we always have a holy king above us,
and that he and we share the joy of peace.