yuán hé shí nián,
yú zuǒ qiān jiǔ jiāng jùn sī mǎ。
míng nián qiū,
sòng kè pén pǔ kǒu。
wén zhōu zhōng yè tánpípá zhě,
tīng qí yīn,
zhèng zhèng rán yòu jīng dū shēng。
wèn qí rén,
běn cháng '
ān chàng nǚ。
cháng xué pí pá yú mù、
cáo '
èr shàn cái,
niánzhǎng sè shuāi,
wěi shēn wéi jiǎ rén fù。
suì mìng jiǔ shǐ kuài dàn shùqǔ,
qǔbà mǐn rán。
zì xù shàoxiǎo shí huān lè shì,
jīn piào lún qiáo cuì,
zhuǎn xǐ yú jiāng hú jiān。
yú chū guān '
èr nián,
tián rán zì '
ān,
gǎn sī rén yán,
shì xī shǐ jué yòu qiān zhé yì。
yīn wéi cháng jù,
gē yǐ zèng zhī,
fán liù bǎi yī shí '
èr yán,
mìng yuē《
pí pá xíng》。
hǎixún yáng jiāng tóu yè sòng kè,
fēng yè dí huā qiū sè sè。
zhù rén xià mǎ kè zài chuán,
jǔ jiǔ yù yǐn wú guǎn xián。
zuì bù chéng huān cǎn jiāng bié,
bié shí máng máng jiāng jìn yuè。
hū wén shuǐ shàng pí pá shēng,
zhù rén wàng guī kè bù fā。
xún shēng '
àn wèn dàn zhě shuí,
pí pá shēng tíng yù yǔ chí。
yí chuán xiāng jìn yāo xiāng jiàn,
tiān jiǔ huí dēng zhòng kāi yàn。
qiān hū wàn huàn shǐ chū lái,
yóu bào pí pá bàn zhē miàn。
zhuànzhóu bō xián sān liǎng shēng,
wèi chéng qǔdiào xiān yòu qíng。
xián xián yǎn yì shēng shēng sī,
sì sù píng shēng bù dé yì。
dī méi xìn shǒu xù xù dàn,
shuō jìn xīn zhōng wú xiàn shì。
qīng lǒng màn niǎn mǒ fù tiǎo,
chū wéi ní cháng hòu liù yāo。
dà xián cáo cáo rú jí yǔ,
xiǎo xián qièqiè rú sī yǔ。
cáo cáo qièqiè cuò zá dàn,
dà zhū xiǎo zhū luò yù pán。
jiān guān yīng yǔ huā dǐ huá,
yōu yān quán liú bīng xià nán。
bīng quán lěng sè xián yí jué,
yí jué bù tōng shēng zàn xiē。
bié yòu yōu chóu '
àn hèn shēng,
cǐ shí wú shēng shèng yòu shēng。
yín píng zhà pò shuǐ jiāng bèng,
tiě qí tū chū dāo qiāng míng。
qǔzhōng shōu bō dāng xīn huà,
sì xián yī shēng rú liè bó。
dōng zhōu xī fǎng qiǎo wú yán,
wéi jiàn jiāng xīn qiū yuè bái。
chén yín fàng bō chā xián zhōng,
zhěng dùn yī cháng qǐ liǎn róng。
zì yán běn shì jīng chéng nǚ,
jiā zài hámá líng xià zhù。
shí sān xué dé pí pá chéng,
míng shǔ jiào fāng dì yī bù。
qǔbà céng jiào shàn cái fú,
zhuāng chéng měi bèi qiū niàn dù。
wǔ líng niánshào zhēng chán tóu,
yī qū hóng xiāo bù zhī shù。
diàn tóu yún bì jī jié suì,
xuè sè luó qún fān jiǔ wū。
jīn nián huān xiào fù míng nián,
qiū yuè chūn fēng děng xián dù。
dì zǒu cóng jūn '
ā yí sǐ,
mù qù cháo lái yán sè gù。
mén qián lěng luò '
ān mǎ xī,
lǎo dà jià zuò shāng rén fù。
shāng rén zhòng lì qīng bié lí,
qián yuè fú liáng mǎi chá qù。
qù lái jiāng kǒu shǒu kōng chuán,
rào chuán yuè míng jiāng shuǐ hán。
yè shēn hū mèng shàonián shì,
mèng tí zhuāng lèi hóng lán gān。
wǒ wén pí pá yǐ tàn xī,
yòu wén cǐ yǔ zhòng jī jī。
tóng shì tiān yá lún luò rén,
xiāng féng hé bì céng xiāng shí。
wǒ cóng qù nián cí dì jīng,
zhé jū wò bìng hǎixún yáng chéng。
hǎixún yáng dì pì wú yīnyuè,
zhōng suì bù wén sī zhú shēng。
zhù jìn pén jiāng dì dī shī,
huáng lú kǔ zhú rào zhái shēng。
qí jiān dàn mù wén hé wù,
dù juān tí xuè yuán '
āi míng。
chūn jiāng huā cháo qiū yuè yè,
wǎng wǎng qǔ jiǔ hái dú qīng。
qǐ wú shān gē yǔ cūn dí,
ǒu yǎ cháo zǎ nán wéi tīng。
jīn yè wén jūn pí pá yǔ,
rú tīng xiānyuè '
ěr zàn míng。
mò cí gèng zuò dànyīqǔ,
wéi jūn fān zuò pí pá xíng。
gǎn wǒ cǐ yán liáng jiǔ lì,
què zuò cù xián xián zhuǎn jí。
qī qī bù sì xiàng qián shēng,
mǎn zuò zhòng wén jiē yǎn qì。
zuò zhōng qì xià shuí zuì duō?
jiāng zhōu sī mǎ qīng shān shī。
I was bidding a guest farewell, at night on the Xunyang River,
Where maple-leaves and full-grown rushes rustled in the autumn.
I, the host, had dismounted, my guest had boarded his boat,
And we raised our cups and wished to drink-but, alas, there was no music.
For all we had drunk we felt no joy and were parting from each other,
When the river widened mysteriously toward the full moon –
We had heard a sudden sound, a guitar across the water.
Host forgot to turn back home, and guest to go his way.
We followed where the melody led and asked the player's name.
The sound broke off...then reluctantly she answered.
We moved our boat near hers, invited her to join us,
Summoned more wine and lanterns to recommence our banquet.
Yet we called and urged a thousand times before she started toward us,
Still hiding half her face from us behind her guitar.
...She turned the tuning-pegs and tested several strings;
We could feel what she was feeling, even before she played:
Each string a meditation, each note a deep thought,
As if she were telling us the ache of her whole life.
She knit her brows, flexed her fingers, then began her music,
Little by little letting her heart share everything with ours.
She brushed the strings, twisted them slow, swept them, plucked them –
First the air of The Rainbow Skirt, then The Six Little Ones.
The large strings hummed like rain,
The small strings whispered like a secret,
Hummed, whispered-and then were intermingled
Like a pouring of large and small pearls into a plate of jade.
We heard an oriole, liquid, hidden among flowers.
We heard a brook bitterly sob along a bank of sand...
By the checking of its cold touch, the very string seemed broken
As though it could not pass; and the notes, dying away
Into a depth of sorrow and concealment of lament,
Told even more in silence than they had told in sound....
A silver vase abruptly broke with a gush of water,
And out leapt armored horses and weapons that clashed and smote –
And, before she laid her pick down, she ended with one stroke,
And all four strings made one sound, as of rending silk
There was quiet in the east boat and quiet in the west,
And we saw the white autumnal moon enter the river's heart.
...When she had slowly placed the pick back among the strings,
She rose and smoothed her clothing and, formal, courteous,
Told us how she had spent her girlhood at the capital,
Living in her parents' house under the Mount of Toads,
And had mastered the guitar at the age of thirteen,
With her name recorded first in the class-roll of musicians,
Her art the admiration even of experts,
Her beauty the envy of all the leading dancers,
How noble youths of Wuling had lavishly competed
And numberless red rolls of silk been given for one song,
And silver combs with shell inlay been snapped by her rhythms,
And skirts the colour of blood been spoiled with stains of wine....
Season after season, joy had followed joy,
Autumn moons and spring winds had passed without her heeding,
Till first her brother left for the war, and then her aunt died,
And evenings went and evenings came, and her beauty faded –
With ever fewer chariots and horses at her door;
So that finally she gave herself as wife to a merchant
Who, prizing money first, careless how he left her,
Had gone, a month before, to Fuliang to buy tea.
And she had been tending an empty boat at the river's mouth,
No company but the bright moon and the cold water.
And sometimes in the deep of night she would dream of her triumphs
And be wakened from her dreams by the scalding of her tears.
Her very first guitar-note had started me sighing;
Now, having heard her story, I was sadder still.
"We are both unhappy – to the sky's end.
We meet. We understand. What does acquaintance matter?
I came, a year ago, away from the capital
And am now a sick exile here in Jiujiang –
And so remote is Jiujiang that I have heard no music,
Neither string nor bamboo, for a whole year.
My quarters, near the River Town, are low and damp,
With bitter reeds and yellowed rushes all about the house.
And what is to be heard here, morning and evening? –
The bleeding cry of cuckoos, the whimpering of apes.
On flowery spring mornings and moonlit autumn nights
I have often taken wine up and drunk it all alone,
Of course there are the mountain songs and the village pipes,
But they are crude and-strident, and grate on my ears.
And tonight, when I heard you playing your guitar,
I felt as if my hearing were bright with fairymusic.
Do not leave us. Come, sit down. Play for us again.
And I will write a long song concerning a guitar."
...Moved by what I said, she stood there for a moment,
Then sat again to her strings-and they sounded even sadder,
Although the tunes were different from those she had played before....
The feasters, all listening, covered their faces.
But who of them all was crying the most?
This Jiujiang official. My blue sleeve was wet.