The Chronicles of the Zhao Clan in the Warring States Period

The wind whistles cold by the Yi River,

The brave man sets off, never to return.

The Warring States is but a song—

One finishes singing, another takes the stage.

We come in haste, and leave just as quickly—

But do we leave something behind?

Or do we simply wave our sleeves,

Not taking even a cloud with us?