Snow —to the tune of Qin Yuan Chun
A hundred leagues locked in ice,
A thousand leagues of whirling snow.
Both sides of the Great Wall One single white immensity.
The Yellow River’s swift current
Is stilled from end to end.
The mountains dance like silver snakes
And the highlands charge like wax-hued elephants,
Vying with heaven in stature.
On a fine day, the land, Clad in white, adorned in red,
This land so rich in beauty
Has made countless heroes bow in homage.
But alas! Qing Shihuang and Han Wudi
Were lacking in literary grace,
And Tang Taizong and Song Taizu
Had little poetry in their souls;
Proud Son of Heaven for a day,
Knew only shooting eagles, bow outstretched
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