Fury rises through my hair, I stand at the railing, The melancholy rain has ceased. I raise my head and let out a long howl at the heavens, My heart throbs with power. Thirty years of fame are but dust and earth; eight thousand miles of travel are but clouds and moons. Do not waste your time idly, and let your youthful prime turn white, Only to grieve in vain.
The shame of Jingkang, yet to be washed away; The hate of a subject, when will it end? I shall drive a long chariot, and break through the Helan Mountain Pass. My bold ambition yearns to feast on the flesh of the barbarians, to drink the blood of the Huns. When the time comes, I shall reclaim our lost land, Return to the Imperial Palace
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