Three Short Poems

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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.

© Mao Zedong