Rebuilding Great Qin

Behold, the flames beneath Mount Li surge into the heavens, and the First Emperor's spirit transforms into raging waves!

Behold, the iron-armored soldiers of the north stand beneath the cold moon, three hundred thousand blades drawn as one!

I tear my Confucian cap and drink strong wine, daring Heaven itself to test my mettle.

The banners of Hangu Pass sweep through the beacon smoke; the palaces of Xianyang are cast aside like dust.

Boil Zhao Gao, roast Li Si, summon Meng Tian, and strike up a sword-song.

Let me sing wildly and shatter the false decree. How could a man's burning blood be shed in vain?

The old soldiers of Longxi are all old friends. At midnight, the horns sound across the wilds.

Warhorses trample the dreams of the Six Kingdoms; long spears sweep away the old dynasty.

Where are the Confucian scholars of old? Wild mugwort now grows among the bamboo slips before their graves.

I shall recast the seal of the realm, melt the bronze law cauldrons into bridges of white jade.

The imperial road will lead straight to the banks of the Milky Way, and the Great Wall will wind its way to the Dipper's handle.

A phoenix rises from the flames of Epang Palace; dragons roar amid the waves of the Wei River.

Drunk, I ride a blue-maned steed across the starry river, when suddenly I see the First Emperor touring the heavens:

Foolish boy, you have awakened to the plot at Sand Dune. Take up your Wu hook sword and carry on the spirit of Qin!

The clouds of the nine heavens collapse, the stars run wild, and the bells and drums of Xianyang shake the Xiao and Hangu passes.

I laugh three times, shaking the palace tiles, while tears soak my dark robes and never dry:

The spirits of six generations share the same bright moon. Why should we need ten thousand generations to praise Heaven?

Let my loyalty shine upon the mortal world. A heart of iron and blood shall endure forever!