After the battle, many new ghosts cry, The solitary old man murmurs in his grief.

Could I get mansions covering ten thousand miles, I'd house all the poor scholars and make them beam with smiles

This morning's scene is good and fine, Long rain has not harmed the land.

The weeping voices rise straight up and strike the clouds. A passer-by at the roadside asks a conscript why, The conscript answers only that drafting happens often.

My heart is in a world of water and crystal, My clothes are damp in this time of spring rains.

This morning's scene is good and fine, Long rain has not harmed the land.