Here is the original text from which I translated "The Hard Road":

Here is a "literal" translation of the Chinese:
Climb high gaze four seas
Heaven earth how vast vast
Frost blanket crowd thing autumn
Wind blow big desert cold
Magnificent east flow water
10,000 thing all billow
White sun cover elapse brilliance
Float cloud without certain end
Wutong nest swallow sparrow
Thorn jujube perch yuan luan
Moreover again return go come
Sword sing travel road difficult

Here is my translation:

 

I've got so high, I can see four seas

heaven and earth stretch below me

the frost covers summer's corpse

and there's a chill rollin' in from the desert

The Rio Grande she flows to the east

Carrying 10,000 dreams I'll never see

The sun he's faded, just another burnout

overrun by clouds

There's a phoenix burning under a roadside sign

and a swallow perched on a saguaro

And I'm traveling on, there's no home on the range

I've got a thorn in my side, singing "the hard road"

Dear friends (all 69 of you),

The semester is nigh over and I am gearing up for Summer.  A backing band (The Private Club of the Satan's Helpers) is being assembled as I write.  They will be performing some old favorites and new hits with me.  I have been doing a lot of translations, mostly of the poems of an 8th-century Chinese poet named Li Bai, and have set them to music.  Trevor Morris recorded these songs at his lovely Englewood studio (The Furnace Room), which happens to be a stone's throw from my house.  I will be playing a solo show with old friends The Devil's Own (amongst other, yet to be named bands) at Oned Eyed Jack's on May 30th.  I hope you can come.  The next show (hopefully with a full band) is slated to take place on the fourth of July with the venerable Mike Damron and others.  Bands, if you would like someone to open your show for you, please do contact me.  I would love to play with you.

Wishing you the best,

Ross Etherton and the Private Club of the Satan's Helpers

We wake up in the morning,

just before sunrise

The men are waiting for the bus,

sloughing sleep from their eyes

And it's a long time coming home,

and we aint got there yet.

There's a lot of blood to be let

There's a lot of knives to be whet,

and they aint sharpened yet.

Momma's in the kitchen,

she's got babies at her breast

Sister...she's out whoring, trying to feed the rest.

And it's a long time coming

home, and we aint got there yet.

The men come home from the factory,

beer stink on their breath

The men come home from the factory,

smelling just like death,

just like they always do...

and the killing aint done yet.

There's a lot of blood to be let

There's a lot of knives to be whet,

and they aint sharpened yet.