People's Liberation Army New
Medical Service Method of China - Book 1 - Page 7

Size: 13 x 18.5 cm Green streams, blue hills ---but all to what avail ? This tiny germ left even Hua To powerless: Weeds choked hundreds of villages, men wasted away ; Thousand of households dwindled, phantoms sang with glee. On earth I travel eighty thousand li a day, Ranging the sky I see a myriad rivers, Should the Cowherd ask tidings of the Gd of Plague, Say :past joys and woe have vanished with the waves.

The spring wind blows amid ten thousand willow branches,
Six hundred million in this Sacred Land all equal Yao and Shun.
Flowers falling like crimson rain swirl in waves at will.
Green mountains turn to bridges at our wish;
Gleaming mattocks fall on heaven-high peaks;
Mighty arms move rivers, rock the earth.
We ask the God of plague; "where are you bound?"
Paper barges aflame and candle-light illuminate the sky.