Alack, alas! Alack alas!
She weaves and sees the shuttle pass.
You cannot hear the shuttle, why?
Its whir is drowned in her deep sigh.
“Oh, what are you thinking about?
Will you tell us? Will you speak out?”
“I have no worry on my mind,
Nor have I grief of any kind.
I read the battle roll last night,
The Khan has ordered men to fight.
The roll was written in twelve books,
My father’s name was in the nooks.
My father has no grown-up son,
For elder brother I have none.
I’ll buy a horse of hardy race,
And serve in my old father’s place.”
She buys at the fair east and west
A steed with saddle fitting best;
She buys a long whip north and south
And metal bit for the horse’s mouth.
At dawn she leaves her parents by the city wall,
At dusk she reaches Yellow River shore.
All night she listens for old folk’s familiar call,
But only hears the Yellow River’s roar.
At dawn she leaves the Yellow River shore,
To Mountains Black she goes her way.
At night she hears old folk’s familiar voice no more,
But only on north mountains Tartar horses neigh.
For miles and miles the army march along,
And cross the mountain barriers as in flight.
The northern wind has chilled the watchmen’s gong,
Their coat of mail glistens in wintry light.
In ten years they’ve lost many captains strong,
But battle-hardened warriors come back in delight.
Back, they have their audience with the Khan in the hall,
Honors and gifts are lavished on them with grace.
The Khan asks her what she wants after all,
“A camel fleet to carry me to my native place.”
Hearing that she has come, and leaning on each other,
Her parents come to meet her at the city gate.
Her sister rouges her face and her younger brother,
Sharpening knife, kills pig and sheep to celebrate.
She opens the doors east and west
And sit on her bed for a rest.
She doffs her garb worn under fire
And wears again female attire.
Before the window she arranges her hair
And in the mirror sees her image fair.
Then she comes out to see her former mate,
Who stares at her in amazement great:
“We have marched together for twelve years,
But did not know there was a lass’mid our compeers!”
Both buck and doe have lilting gait
And both their eyelids palpitate.
When side by side two rabbits go,
Who can tell the buck from the doe?
Alack, alas! Alack alas!
She weaves and sees the shuttle pass.
You cannot hear the shuttle, why?
Its whir is drowned in her deep sigh.
“Oh, what are you thinking about?
Will you tell us? Will you speak out?”
“I have no worry on my mind,
Nor have I grief of any kind.
I read the battle roll last night,
The Khan has ordered men to fight.
The roll was written in twelve books,
My father’s name was in the nooks.
My father has no grown-up son,
For elder brother I have none.
I’ll buy a horse of hardy race,
And serve in my old father’s place.”
She buys at the fair east and west
A steed with saddle fitting best;
She buys a long whip north and south
And metal bit for the horse’s mouth.
At dawn she leaves her parents by the city wall,
At dusk she reaches Yellow River shore.
All night she listens for old folk’s familiar call,
But only hears the Yellow River’s roar.
At dawn she leaves the Yellow River shore,
To Mountains Black she goes her way.
At night she hears old folk’s familiar voice no more,
But only on north mountains Tartar horses neigh.
For miles and miles the army march along,
And cross the mountain barriers as in flight.
The northern wind has chilled the watchmen’s gong,
Their coat of mail glistens in wintry light.
In ten years they’ve lost many captains strong,
But battle-hardened warriors come back in delight.
Back, they have their audience with the Khan in the hall,
Honors and gifts are lavished on them with grace.
The Khan asks her what she wants after all,
“A camel fleet to carry me to my native place.”
Hearing that she has come, and leaning on each other,
Her parents come to meet her at the city gate.
Her sister rouges her face and her younger brother,
Sharpening knife, kills pig and sheep to celebrate.
She opens the doors east and west
And sit on her bed for a rest.
She doffs her garb worn under fire
And wears again female attire.
Before the window she arranges her hair
And in the mirror sees her image fair.
Then she comes out to see her former mate,
Who stares at her in amazement great:
“We have marched together for twelve years,
But did not know there was a lass’mid our compeers!”
Both buck and doe have lilting gait
And both their eyelids palpitate.
When side by side two rabbits go,
Who can tell the buck from the doe?