The Pitiful Young Prince

Hooded crows fly at night

    over the walls of Chang'an,

uttering harsh cries

    above Welcoming Autumn Gate,

then head for people's houses,

    pecking at the lofty roofs,

roofs beneath which high officials

    scurry to escape barbarians.

The golden whip is broken in two,

    the nine horses are run to death,*

but it is still not possible

    for all of royal blood to flee together...

In plain sight below his waist

    a precious ornament of blue coral,

the pitiful prince stands weeping

    at the corner of the road.

When I ask, he refuses to tell

    either name or surname;

he only speaks of his desperation,

    and begs to become my slave.

For a hundred days now

    he has lain hidden in brambles;

there is no whole skin left

    on his entire body.

But the sons and grandsons of Gao-zu

    all have the same noses-

the dragon-seed, naturally,

    differs from that of ordinary men.

Jackals and wolves in the city,

    dragons lurking in the wilds,

the prince had better take care

    of that thousand-tael body!*

I don't dare talk long here

    in plain view by the crossroads,

but for the sake of my prince

    I will stay for a moment.

Last night the east wind

    blew in the stench of blood,

and camels from the east

    filled the former Capital.*

The Shuo-fang veterans

    were known as skilled warriors,

they always seemed so fierce,

    but now how foolish they look!

It is rumored that the Son of Heaven

    has already abdicated,

but also that the Khan

    is lending his support,

that the men of Hua gashed their faces

    and begged to wipe out this disgrace.

Say nothing! Someone else

    may be hiding and listening.

Alas, Prince, you must be careful,

    stay on guard,

and may the spirits of the Five Tombs*

    watch over you always.