At dawn the camp I enter by Loyang's eastern gate.
At eve upon the floating bridge I stand to meditate
The rays of sunset glint upon the banner floating wide.
A shrilling wind and horses' neighs resound on every side.
A myriad of tents in ordered rows are set upon the sand,
The men each other hailing as each one quits his band.
In mid-sky high suspended the moon is sailing bright.
This discipline makes desolate the loneliness of night.
With wailings intermittently a mournful reed pipe sobs.
Disheartened seem the warriors; no breast with ardour throbs.
Were some one now to ask me who may the General be,
At random guessing I would say, some flaunting Ko is he.