War chariots thunder, horses neigh, the barbarians are coming.
What are we waiting for, young nubile women pointing at the wall,
the barbarians are coming.
They have heard about a weakened link in the wall.
So, the barbarians have ears among us.
So deceive yourself with illusions: you are only one woman,
holding one broken brick in the wall.
So deceive yourself with illusions: as if you matter,
that brick and that wall.
The barbarians are coming: they have red beards or beardless
with a top knot.
The barbarians are coming: they are your fathers, brothers,
teachers, lovers; and they are clearly an other.
The barbarians are coming:
If you call me a horse, I must be a horse.
If you call me a bison, I am equally as guilty.
When a thing is true and is correctly described, one doubles
the blame by not admitting it: so, Chuangtzu, himself,
was a barbarian king!
Horse, horse, bison, bison, the barbarians are coming—
and how they love to come.
The smells of the great frontier exalt in them!