The preface to a political prisoner listening to a cicada
Author: Luo Binwang
The forbidden place is in the west of the wall,
It is also a matter of law hall, and there are several ancient Huai trees.
Although the business is known, it is the same as Yin Zhongwen's ancient tree;
And the hearing place is Gan Tang of Zhou Zhaobo.
Every evening, the sun shines low, and Qiu Chan draws it out.
There is a quiet sound, and there is a taste and smell.
When people are different from each other, do you mourn the sound of insects before listening?
hehe, the voice is moving, and the virtue is like a sage.
therefore, it is necessary to clean up one's body and honor the noble deeds of a gentleman.
shed its skin, and it has the spirit of the fairy capital.
when the time comes, follow the number of yin and yang;
it is necessary to change the situation, and use it to examine and hide.
Open your eyes, and don't ignore them by being confused by Tao;
wings are thin, not vulgar but easy to be true.
Singing the breeze of the trees, the rhyme is vertical;
drinking the dew of high autumn makes people afraid.
it's difficult for a servant to lose his way, and he is punished by the time.
don't grieve but feel sorry for yourself, and decline before shaking down.
when I hear the flowing sound of the flies, I realize that the rehabilitation has been played;
Seeing the shadow of praying mantis, I am afraid of the crisis.
compose poems with emotion, and make friends.
ordinary feelings follow things, mourning the weak feathers falling;
Tao sends people to know, showing compassion for Yu Sheng's loneliness.
it's not writing and ink, instead of worrying and worrying. ?
cicadas sing in the west land, and visitors in the south crown think deeply.
unbearable dark shadow, to break a white-haired prisoner's heart.
his flight is heavy through the fog, his pure voice drowns in the windy world.
who knows if he be singing still?, who listens any more to me?.
Note:
1. Although there are two words about business: Yin Zhongwen of the Eastern Jin Dynasty saw the old pagoda tree in Huan Wen Mansion of Fu, and sighed: This tree is swaying, and there is no business resumption. Take this opportunity to sigh that he has no ambition. It is used here.
2. Hearing the case: It is said that in the Zhou Dynasty, Bo was called to make a tour to listen to the civil lawsuit without bothering the people, and the case was decided in Gan Tang (Tangli), so that future generations were warned not to damage the tree. Zhao Bo, namely Zhao Gong. The ancestor of Yan State in the Zhou Dynasty, named, was named after the feudal city was in Zhao (now southwest of Qishan, Shaanxi).
3. Time: former time.
4. Will: or.
5. Emblem: the rope that binds criminals, which means imprisoned here.
6. compose a poem: compose a poem.
7. Westland: autumn.
8. Southern Crown: Chu Crown, which means prisoner. With "Zuo Zhuan Cheng Gong Jiu Nian", Chu Zhongyi was imprisoned in the government office of the Jin army wearing a southern crown.
9. Xuanbin: refers to the black wings of cicadas, which means that they are in their prime.
1. Ballad of White Head: The title of Yuefu. The solution to Yuefu Poems is Bao Zhao, Zhang Zhengjian and Yu Shinan, all of which hurt themselves but were slandered. The two sentences mean that I am in the middle of a mysterious year, but I have come to recite the sad poem like "Bai Tou Yin".
Translation:
Outside the western wall of my cell,
is the court where the case is heard, and
there are several ancient locust trees there.
Although they are full of vitality,
they are the same as the locust trees seen by Yin Zhongwen in the Eastern Jin Dynasty;
But the hearing court is here,
just like the Zhou Dynasty called Bo Xunxing to adjudicate cases under the Tangshu tree.
Every evening when the sun is tilted,
Qiu Chan sings,
makes a quiet sound, and
it's more sad than before.
is it the past with different moods?
or is the insect sound sadder than what I heard before?
alas, the cicada sound is enough to move people, and
the virtue of cicada is enough to symbolize virtue.
Therefore, its honesty and frugality
can be said to inherit the noble character of a gentleman and a talented person.
After molting, it
has a wonderful posture of feathering on the fairyland.
wait for the season,
follow the laws of nature;
adapt to seasonal changes,
gain insight into the opportunity of seclusion and activities.
if you have eyes, you will stare big,
you will not be blind because of the dark road;
wings can fly high, but they are self-indulgent,
they don't change their essence because of worldly turbidity.
Singing in the breeze on a tall tree,
That gesture and rhyme is really a godsend,
Drinking the dew under the sky in late autumn,
I am afraid of being known.
I'm in a sad situation,
I'm imprisoned in trouble,
even if I'm not sad, I always blame myself,
like a leaf that has not withered and has declined.
Hearing the sound of cicadas,
I thought that the memorial for Zhao Xue's rehabilitation had been reported;
But seeing the shadow of mantis trying to catch cicadas,
I'm worried that my danger has not been lifted.
I feel deeply when I am touched by the scene. Write a poem and
present it to your bosom friends.
I hope my scene can respond to the signs of cicadas,
sympathize with my wandering situation like a tiny Qiu Chan,
speak it out and let everyone know,
sympathize with my lonely mood of finally moaning.
It's not a formal article,
It's just a chat to relieve anxiety.
In late autumn, cicadas are singing outside the Western Wall.
The cicadas bring my prisoner's melancholy to a distance.
How can you stand the good times when Xuanbin is in its prime?
Chanting such a sad poem by Whitehead alone.
The world can't be so cold when the wings are bare and thin,
It's windy and loud, so it's hard to keep its fragrance.
No one knows that I'm as clean and noble as Qiu Chan.
Who can express my pure heart?
In the third year of Yifeng in Tang Gaozong (678), the poet moved to the position of an imperial adviser. Because of his neglect of matters, he angered Wu Hou and was falsely imprisoned. His poems were written at this time.
The poet uses cicada's nobleness as a metaphor for his incorruptibility. The first couplet was inspired by the cicada sound, which caused the guests to think, and it was pertinent from the South Crown. Zhuan Lian expounded the relationship between things and me, exposing the ugliness of state affairs and the sadness of self. The neck couplet uses metaphor, which means that the world is dirty and the environment is bad with dew and wind. It is difficult to fly into the sea. The sound is easy to sink, and the speech is under pressure. The tail is connected with cicada's nobleness, which means one's own character, and the sentence is concluded to point out the hatred of unjust imprisonment.
This is a very good poem about things, which is lyrical and full of loyalty and anger. Pipa parallel order
Bai Juyi Pipa parallel order
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.
Guan Yingying speaks with a slippery bottom, 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.
thoughtfully in the plucked string, 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.
You should always teach the good before serving, her beauty the envy of all the leading dancers.
how noble youths of Wuling had lavishly competed, I don't know how many songs are lost.
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, it's cold in the bright moon and the river around the cabin.
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.
There are no folk songs and gudi, 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?, Jiangzhou Sima Qing is wet.
Translation and Notes
In the tenth year of Yuanhe in Tang Xianzong, I was demoted to Sima in Jiujiang County. One day in the autumn of the following year, I saw a guest off at Songpukou, and at night I heard someone playing the lute on board. Listen to that voice, clanking and clanking with the popular rhyme of Kyoto. Inquire about this person, who turned out to be a singer in Chang 'an, and once learned from two pipa masters, Mu and Cao. Later, when she was old, she retired and married a businessman. So I ordered someone to set wine and ask her to play a few songs happily. After she finished playing, she looked a little glum. She talked about the joy of her childhood, but now she is wandering and haggard, wandering between rivers and lakes. I left Beijing for two years, and I took it easy and enjoyed myself. Now I am touched by this man's words, and I feel demoted that night. So I wrote a long poem for her, * * * 616 words, entitled Pipa.
On autumn night, I went to Jiangtou, Xunyang to see off a returning guest. The cold wind blew maple leaves and reeds rustling in autumn.
I dismounted and gave a farewell dinner with the guests on the boat, and raised my glass to drink the orchestral strings that didn't help.
I'm more sad when I'm not happy with the wine. When I leave, the river reflects the bright moon at night.
suddenly, I heard the sound of pipa ringing on the river. I forgot to return and the guests didn't want to leave.
follow the body and ask who is playing the pipa? Pipa stopped for a long time but there was no movement.
let's move the boat closer and invite her out to meet; Tell the servants to add more wine and return to the lights to set up the banquet again.
It took her a long time to come out shyly, still holding the pipa and half covering her shy face.
turn the piano shaft tightly and pluck the strings to try playing a few times; It is still shown as a tune, and that form is very affectionate.
the sad voice of the strings implies meditation; It seems to be telling her life's frustration;
She kept playing with her head down. Tell the infinite past in your heart with the piano.
gently caress, slowly twist, smooth, wipe and pick; Play colorful plumage first and then six.
the big strings are long and noisy like a storm; Small strings are gentle and quiet, as if someone were whispering.
the noise and tangles are played alternately; Like a string of big beads falling off a jade plate.
crisp as Oriole singing under the flowers; Sorrow is like a clear spring flowing under the beach.
It seems that the cold and astringent pipa sound of the spring begins to condense, and the condensed but unsmooth sound gradually stops.
It seems that another kind of sadness and hatred secretly breeds; At this time, it is more touching than sound.
Suddenly, it seems that the silver bottle broke into water and splashed; It's like armored cavalry killing swords and guns.
at the end of the song, she aimed at the center of the string and allocated it; The roar of the four strings seemed to tear the cloth.
People from the East Boat and the West Boat listened quietly; I saw the white moon reflected in the middle of the river.
she thoughtfully put away the pick and inserted it in the strings; Finishing clothes still shows a solemn face.
She said that I was a famous singer in Beijing. My hometown lives in Ranling, southeast of Chang 'an.
I learned the pipa playing skills at the age of thirteen. My name is listed in the first team of Jiaofang Orchestra.
Every time you play it, the artists are amazed. Every time I make up Chengdu, I am envied by my fellow geisha.
the children of Kyoto's rich people are scrambling to present their colors; I don't know the number of red gauze collected after playing a song.
the beating time of the silver grate with the hammer head is often broken and shattered; I don't regret that the red skirt is stained with wine stains.
I spent years laughing and fighting; Autumn goes and spring comes, and the good times are wasted.
Brothers joining the army and sisters' way of dying is broken; I'm getting old and my color is fading as the years go by.
the number of patrons is sparse; Youth is gone, so I have to marry a businessman.
Businessmen often leave easily when they value profit rather than affection; He went to Fuliang to do tea business last month.
He went and left me alone in the estuary; The autumn moon accompanied me around the cabin and the autumn water was cold.
In the dead of night, I often dream of having fun and revelry as a teenager; In my dream, crying and crying defiled my face.
I have already shook my head and sighed when I heard the weeping of the pipa; It makes me sad to hear her talk again.
We are both miserable people who are reduced to the end of the world; When we meet today, why ask if we have ever met?
Since I left the bustling capital of Chang 'an last year; Being demoted and living by Xunyang River often falls ill.
Xunyang is a desolate place with no music. No orchestral instruments can be heard all the year round.
living in the low-lying and humid place of Ganjiang River; Yellow reeds and bitter bamboos surround the first house.
what can you hear here in the morning and evening? It's full of the sad cries of cuckoo apes.
It's as good as a moonlit night in Qiu Jiang. I can't help it. I often drink wine alone.
aren't there folk songs and village flutes here? It's just that the tone is hoarse and harsh.
I listened to you play the pipa tonight, just as I heard Yue Xian's eyes were bright and ears were bright.
Please don't refuse to sit down and play another song; I want to create a new poem pipa for you.
moved by my words, she stood for a long time; Turn around and sit down, then tighten the strings and dial out the urgent sound.
it's sad and earnest, and it's no longer like that voice just now; Everyone here is hard of hearing, hiding their faces and crying.
who shed the most tears in this room? I Jiangzhou Sima's tears are soaked through my blue skirt!
1. Move to the left: demote the official.
2. Where: * * *.
3, off: birdsong.
4. Frog Mausoleum: Xiama Mausoleum, near which the singer lived.
5. Qiu Niang: Geisha.