The Xiongnu (Old Chinese: /qʰoŋ.nˤa/, Wade–Giles: Hsiung-nu), were a large confederation of Eurasian nomads who dominated the Asian Steppe from the late 3rd century BCE to the late 1st century CE. Chinese sources from the 3rd century BC report them as having created an empire under Modu Chanyu, the supreme leader after 209 BC. This empire (209 BC — 93 AD) stretched beyond the borders of modern-day Mongolia. After defeating the previously dominant Yuezhi in the 2nd century BC, the Xiongnu became a dominant power on the steppes of central and eastern Asia. They were active in regions of what is now southern Siberia, Mongolia, Inner Mongolia, Gansu and Xinjiang. Relations between early adjacent Chinese dynasties to the south east and the Xiongnu were complex, with repeated periods of military conflict and intrigue, alternating with exchanges of tribute, trade, and marriage treaties.
Various attempts to identify them with groups known from further west across the Eurasian Steppe under different names remain highly controversial. The identity of the ethnic core of Xiongnu has been a subject of varied hypotheses, because only a few words, mainly titles and personal names, were preserved in the Chinese sources. Proposals by scholars include Iranian,Mongolic,Tocharian, Turkic,UralicYeniseian, or multi-ethnic. The name Xiongnu may be cognate with that of Huns (Hunni) and Huna, but the evidence for this is controversial.
Wenn die bunten Fahnen wehen, geht die Fahrt wohl über's Meer.
Woll'n wir ferne Lande sehen, fällt der Abschied uns nicht schwer.
Leuchtet die Sonne, ziehen die Wolken,
klingen die Lieder weit über's Meer.
Sonnenschein ist unsere Wonne, wie er lacht am lichten Tag.
Doch es geht auch ohne Sonne, wenn sie mal nicht scheinen mag.
Blasen die Stürme, brausen die Wellen,
Hei, die wilden Wandervögel ziehen wieder durch die Nacht
singen ihre alten Lieder, daß die Welt vom Schlaf erwacht.
Kommt dann der Morgen, sind sie schon weiter,
über die Berge wer weiß wohin?
Wo die blauen Gipfel ragen, lockt so mancher steile Pfad,
immer vorwärts, ohne Zagen, bald sind wir dem Ziel genaht.
Schneefelder blinken, schimmern von ferne her,