By waters and by flowers still the same. Now curfew, and the dust of Tartar horsemen. I ll head north to reach the south again. Ballad of the War Wagons Noise of wagons. Cry of Horses.
Every man carries weapons.
Till the bridgehead s drowned in dust. Tug at cloth sleeves, clutch and weep. Wailing lifts to dark clouds. When the watcher questions why, Answer comes, We are the levy . At fifteen guard the Yellow River, At forty work to feed the army.