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��97. THE NEFARIOUS WAR ^P

Last year we fought by the head-stream of the So-kan,

This year we are fighting on the Tsung-ho road.

We have washed our armor in the waves of the Chiao-

chi lake, We have pastured our horses on Tien-shan's snowy

slopes. The long, long war goes on ten thousand miles from

home, Our three armies are worn and grown old.

The barbarian does man-slaughter for plowing;

On his yellow sand-plains nothing has been seen but

blanched skulls and bones. Where the Chin emperor built the walls against the

Tartars, There the defenders of Han are burning beacon fires. The beacon fires burn and never go out, There is no end to war! —

In the battlefield men grapple each other and die;

heaven, While ravens and kites peck at human entrails, Carry them up in their flight, and hang them on the

branches of dead trees.

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