娄山关

Loushan Pass

Fierce the west wind,
Wild geese cry under the frosty morning moon.
Under the frosty morning moon
Horses' hooves clattering¹,
Bugles² sobbing³ low.

Idle boast the strong pass is a wall of iron,
With firm strides we are crossing its summit.
We are crossing its summit,
The rolling hills sea-blue,
The dying sun blood-red.

娄山关
一九三五年二月

西风烈，
长空雁叫霜晨月。
霜晨月，
马蹄声碎，
喇叭声咽。

雄关漫道真如铁，
而今迈步从头越。
从头越，
苍山如海，
残阳如血。