Poems by Mao Zedong Poems 8-14 by Mao Zedong Poems 15-21.→
March from Tingzhou to Changsha (1930.07)
In June Heaven's armies chastise the corrupt and evil, Seeking to bind roc and whale with a league-long cord. Red glows the far side of the River Gan, Thanks to our wing under Huang Gonglyue.
A million workers and peasants rise up, Sweeping Jiangxi straight towards Hunan and Hubei. To the Internationale's stirring strains A wild whirlwind swoops from the sky.
Against the First "Encirclement" Campaign (1931)
Forests blaze red beneath the frosty sky, The wrath of Heaven's armies soars to the clouds. Mist veils Longgang, its thousands peaks blurred. All cry out in unison: Our van has taken Zhang Huizan!
The enemy returns to Jiangxi two hundred thousand strong, Fumes billowing in the wind in mid-sky. Workers and peasants are wakened in their millions To fight as one man, Under the riot of red flags round the foot of Buzhou Mountain!
Against the Second "Encirclement" Campaign (1931)
The very clouds foams atop White Cloud Mountain, At its base the roar of battle quicken. Withered trees and rotten stumps join in the fray. A forest of rifles presses, As the flying General descends from the skies.
In fifteen days we have marched seven hundred li Cross misty Gan waters and green Fujian hills, Rolling back the enemy as we would a mat. A voice is heard wailing; His "Bastion at every step" avail him nought!
Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet -- Who is dancing, waving this coloured ribbon against the sky? The sun returns slanting after the rain And hill and pass grow a deeper blue.
A furious battle once raged here, The village walls, bullet-scarred, Now adorn hill and pass And make them doubly fair.
Soon dawn will break in the east. Do not say "You start too early"; Crossing these blue hills adds nothing to one's years, The landscape here is beyond compare.
Straight from the walls of Huichang lofty peaks, Range after ranges, extend to the eastern sea. Our soldiers point southward to Guangdong Looming lusher and greener in the distance.
Loushan Pass (1935)
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.
Three Short Poems (1934-35)
Mountains! I whip my swift horse, glued to my saddle. I turn my head startled, The sky is three foot above me!
Mountains! Like great wave surging in a crashing sea, Like a thousand stallions In full gallop in the heat of battle.
Mountains! Piercing the blue of heaven, your barbs unblunted! The skies would fall But for you strength supporting.