Tell us, what's the matter with you, soldier?
When your heads were stepped over, you didn't even blink.
Thousands of hooves stomped by; yet you didn't even moan.
Have you lost that shout? Or the Dao has abandoned you?
Whatever happened to your battle cry?
What caused the erosion of the essence of the Yang in you?
When you were unearthed from underneath our feet
our collective jaw dropped to the ground, for it was hard
to believe they’ve you lined up like this
for a couple of millennia
Silence is no longer gold
but the loudest battle cry that will never be heard
Sad but miraculous that through the corridor of time
you have somehow kept yourself alive
We marvel at the resemblance and the familiar expression
of pride, of helplessness and of indifference
an expression that has eventually become us
Maybe we should thank the Chief Craftsman
for his suffering kept you vivid for eternity
When he was a boy, learning his crafts
He hadn't got the slightest idea that someday
His genius and dedication would become his demise
For his fame, the Imperial Court issued no invitation
Instead, they sent some bruising soldiers to capture him
He was made the Chief Craftsman to craft the best
clay soldiers that will guard the emperor's tomb
a container of gigantic evil.
Clay simply because human body would rot
For the craftsman of great skills, there was no honor,
no proper decoration but a cruel threat:
"If you ever kill yourself in protest
Death will become your entire family,
your entire town, infant and elderly included"
From that day on soldiers dominated his life
A fact that no doubt contributed to his art pieces
and enriched the individuality in his creation
Thus your stance had us greatly impressed
We almost forgot that grand irony of centuries --
art was the Chief Craftsman's lifelong spite
By now you probably have realized
why you’ve been lined up like this, and
whom or what you were supposed to protect
Soldiers are born to take pride of their commander
The more terrible the tyrant the more respect you yield to him
The more cruel the emperor the more resounding the empire
A dead emperor must be accompanied by thousands
into the underground, so his power lingers on forever
Oh, you hold your chin up with dignity and glory
None of you has ever shed a tear. You couldn’t
for tears can be so shameful for a soldier's dignity
Thus you remain strong but silent and empty
... for centuries ongoing
History has yet to forget that it is the empire
that ordered your creation also collapsed with your completion
The emperor’s funeral was grand, accompanied
by the Chief Craftsman and thousands of terra cotta soldiers
An ancient equilibrium was thus broken
Catastrophe was feared on this bowl of yellow earth
Who would know that such a severe tip of balance
brought to this land not more bloodshed and misery
but a glorious Tang then a prosperous Song
thus yielded an unparalleled greatness
to a people of spectacular suffering and genius
Now a couple of millennia later this fossilization of Yang
under the yellow earth eventually brought to your offspring
the most fantastic agitation on this planet
We tremble, an army of this magnitude possesses the purest Qi
The aura of virility made the air bubble and scorched the earth
The day when a peasant's well-drill reached you
A rainbow of myriads of colors shot up into our sky
Who but we could detect the pain wrapped in glittering pride?
for, so many episodes are still vivid in our mind
Ancient philosophies constructed by years of medication
were trashed by the emperor of our own barbarianism
and shunned by many of our simpleton kings and lords
Great poets of the Milky Way Galaxy were exiled to wild mountains
And since the burials of soldiers made of clay
heroes are executed or cancelled each other out
beauties were treated with cruelty and destruction
the pain was inevitable and gigantic ...
... miracle is that we still live to the day
to see you being unearthed ...
Only now we feel that weakness in our knees
weak may also be some of our spines
Astonished, we came to grasp the sad fact
that we are, indeed, the unfortunate children of you
the damned soldier who died standing up
Our love has trickled into a puddle of uneasiness
We’ve got no idea what your re-appearance will bring to us
We watch your being paraded around the world
in museums and exhibition halls
We struggle in silence to explain why we feel so
whenever we face you
A solitary soldier or an army of clay mummies,
both pride and shame stack up in our heart
a fabulous congestion stuck in our throat
Like a wild fire raging across the Gobi Desert
We want to declare that we are no children of any damn soldier
The only link between you and us is this time eternal land
Not only are you dumb and deaf, you also leave us with no choice
You are nothing but empty shells with eyes that could never focus
The world has left you and is threatening to leave us soon
However, before that takes place, we'd like to make sure
that proper light be shed on you so the world could see
that you are truly masterpieces of human creation
and our ancestors didn't suffer in vain
for they have you as well as us
as proof of their great genius and perseverance
