Wang Yuan Xing · On Half a Wing

Blizzard on the Tianshan; a thin cold shrouds everything, and on half a wing east and west are hard to see. The road runs far and on; we tread on shadows and lose the trail, and look on as horses scream and riders fall. Soft words, cheek against cheek; the wind sharpens, a hidden fragrance breeds warmth; we look at each other, and thunder shakes the empty vastness. I will keep him company, and take my leave of all this splendor.

No way out: the game lost, I bow and yield the blue hills; down and out to the last, the brocade furs come loose. Mist enough, a broken stele; cold light runs wild; the Nine Springs churn and rise in a frenzy. A life of trudging, over and over; white wilderness — and by luck a devoted soul stays at my side. The vow is left to a thousand ages, the last echo from the Xiao and Han passes.