When a girl rider sways her right arm,
the speeding horse jumps up off the sands.
　

Whenever I see the twilight
at Gobi, I feel sad.
Crimson from the canopy of heaven
 flows upon my forehead.
　

In the gully where the air is shimmering
a falcon passes by straightly.
　

I barely run into the low castle gate.
The roof of Busen Castle warps up.
　

Looking back on Inzan,
consolation is black now
in the green field of my native place.