娄山关
Loushan Pass
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.
娄山关
一九三五年二月
西风烈，
长空雁叫霜晨月。
霜晨月，
马蹄声碎，
喇叭声咽。
雄关漫道真如铁，
而今迈步从头越。
从头越，
苍山如海，
残阳如血。