Ten thousand washing-mallets are pounding

...秋风吹不尽， 总是玉关情。 何日平胡虏？ 良人罢远征。 Folk-song-styled-verse Li Bai A SONG OF AN AUTUMN MIDNIGHT A slip of the moon hangs over the capital; Ten thousand washing-mallets are pounding; And the autumn wind is blowing my heart For ever and ever toward the Jade Pass..