1, Yuanhe ten years, moved to Sima, Jiujiang County. Next autumn, seeing off guests in Songpukou and listening to those who play the pipa in the middle of the night will have the clank of iron in Kyoto.
In the evening, I bid farewell to a guest on Xunyang River. Maple leaves and mature rushes rustle in autumn. I, the host, have dismounted, my guest has boarded his boat, and we raise our cups, hoping to drink-but, alas, there is no music. Although we drank a lot of wine, we were not happy. When we were leaving each other, the river mysteriously widened in the direction of the full moon. We heard a sudden sound, a guitar crossed the water, the host forgot to go home and the guests left.
2. Ask the person, this Chang 'an worships women, tastes Cao Pipa, is old and weak, and is committed to being a good woman.
Tell us how she spent her girlhood in the capital and lived in her parents' house in Toad Hill. She mastered the guitar at the age of thirteen, and her name ranked first in the list of musicians.
Lengma was at the door, so at last she gave her wife to a businessman.
3. Then I ordered some wine to play some songs quickly. When I was young, I told myself my happiness. Now I am wandering, haggard and wandering between rivers and lakes.
... she turned the tuning pin and tested several strings, and even before she played, we could feel her feelings.
Her art even attracted the appreciation of experts, and her beauty attracted the envy of all major dancers. How did the aristocratic youths in Wuling compete generously? Countless red silks were given to a song. The silver comb inlaid with shells was broken by her rhythm, and the bloody skirt was stained with wine. Season after season, joy followed, and neither the autumn moon nor the spring breeze attracted her attention. Until her brother went to war, and then her aunt died, and the night passed, and the night came, and her beauty disappeared.
I have been an official for two years and feel at ease. I feel like I moved at night.
A year ago, I left the capital and came here. Now I am a sick Jiujiang exile. Jiujiang is so far away that I haven't heard music, neither strings nor bamboo sounds for a whole year. My residence is near the town by the river, low and humid, and the house is surrounded by bitter reeds and yellow rushes. What can you hear here in the morning and evening? ?
5, because of long sentences, songs are given to it, every 6 12 words, which is called "Pipa Xing".
Don't leave us. Come, sit down. Play it for us again. Translate the travel notes of pipa for you. ... she was moved by my words, stood there for a while, and then sat down to play her strings-they sounded even sadder.