Mao Zedong poems
Three Short Poems
I whip my swift horse, glued to my saddle.
I turn my head startled,
The sky is three foot three above me!
Like great waves surging in a crashing sea,
Like a thousand stallions
In full gallop in the heat of battle.
Piercing the blue of heaven, your barbs unblunted!
Thee skies would fall
But for your strength supporting.
Fierce the west wind,
Wild geese cry under the frosty morning moon.
Under the frosty morning moon
Horses’ hooves clattering,
Bugles sobbing low.
Idle boast the strong pass is a wall of iron,
With firm strides we are crossing its summit.
We are crossing its summit,
The rolling hills sea-blue,
The dying sun blood-red.
The Long March
The Red Army fears not the trials of the Long March,
Holding light ten thousand crags and torrents.
The Five Ridges wind like gentle ripples
And the majestic Wumeng roll by, globules of clay.
Warm the steep cliffs lapped by the waters of Golden Sand,
Cold the iron chains spanning the Dadu River.
Minshan’s thousand li of snow joyously crossed,
The three Armies march on, each face glowing.
The sky is high, the clouds are pale,
We watch the wild geese vanish southward.
If we fail to reach the Great Wall we are not men,
We who have already measured twenty thousand li.
High on the crest of Mount Liupan
Red banners wave freely in the west wind.
Today we hold the long cord in our hands,
When shall we bind fast the Grey Dragon?
Foreign Languages Press, China