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.
We followed the melody, asked the player's name, and the voice was interrupted ... and then she reluctantly answered. We moved the boat closer to hers, invited her to join us, and summoned more wine and lanterns to start our party again. However, before she came to us, we called a thousand times and urged her for a thousand times, but she still hid half of her face behind her guitar from us. ... she turned the tuning pin and tested several strings, and even before she played, we could feel her feelings. Every string is a kind of meditation, and every note is a kind of deep thinking, as if she were telling us the pain of her life.
She frowned, bent her fingers, and then started her music, letting her heart share everything with us bit by bit. She brushes the strings, twists them slowly, sweeps them and plucks them, first "Nishang" and then "Six Yao". Big strings hum like rain, and small strings whisper like secrets. Humming, whispering-and then mixing together, like pouring large and small pearls into a plate of jade. Between Guan Ying's words, the bottom of the flower is slippery, so you can't swallow the spring scenery and flow under the ice. The ice spring is cold and astringent, and the strings condense, and the condensation will never stop. The depth of sadness and the hiding of sadness are more told in silence than in voice. A silver vase suddenly burst, pouring out a stream of water, jumping out of the conflict and blow between armored horses and weapons. Before she put down the pick, her stroke was over, and all four strings made a sound, just like tearing silk. The east ship was silent, and the west ship was silent. We saw the white autumn moon entering the river.
She tied it thoughtfully on the rope, stood up and smoothed her clothes, serious and polite. 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. 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. Lengma was at the door, so at last she gave her wife to a businessman. Who, first of all, stole money, accidentally left her and went to Fuliang to buy tea a month ago. She has been taking care of an empty boat in the estuary, with no companions except the bright moon and cold water. Sometimes in the middle of the night, she dreams of her victory and is awakened from her dream by her hot tears.
Her first guitar note made me sigh. Now, after listening to her story, I feel even sadder. We were all unhappy until the end of the day, when we met. We understand. What is the relationship between acquaintances? ! 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? ? The cuckoo's bleeding cry, the ape's sobbing. I often pick up the wine and drink it alone in the spring morning with flowers and the autumn night with moonlight shining. Of course, there are folk songs and bagpipes in the village, but they are rough and harsh, and they are harsh in my ears. Tonight, when I heard you playing the guitar, I felt that my hearing was illuminated by wonderful music. 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. Although the tune was different from what she had played before, all the listeners covered their faces. But which of them cried the most? ? This Jiujiang official. My blue sleeves are wet.
Translation:
On autumn night, I went to Xunyang Jiangtou to see off a returning guest, and the autumn wind blew the maple leaves and reeds rustling. My guests and I dismounted from the boat to bid farewell and drank useless music. If you don't drink well, it will be even sadder. You left, and the river reflected the bright moon at night. Suddenly I heard the crisp sound of pipa on the river; I forgot to return, and the guests didn't want to leave.
Find the sound source and ask who is playing the pipa. Pipa stopped for a long time but nothing happened. We brought the boat closer and invited her out to meet; Tell the servant to add more wine, and then set the banquet under the lamp. It was a long time before she came out slowly, holding the pipa in her arms and covering her face half. Tighten the piano shaft, pluck the strings and try to play a few times; Form is very affectionate before it becomes a tune. The sad sound of the strings suggests meditation; It seems to be telling the story of her unsuccessful life.
She kept her head down and kept playing; Tell the infinite past in your heart with the sound of the piano. Close it gently, twist it slowly, wipe it and pick it. Play "Colorful Feather" at the beginning and then "Liuyao". The big string is long and noisy, like a storm; Xiaoxian is gentle and quiet, as if someone is whispering. Noise and tangles are played alternately; Like a string of beads falling from a jade plate. Pipa sounds like a smooth birdsong under a flower for a while, and then it sounds like a difficult, low and intermittent sound of water flowing under the ice. It seems that the cold and astringent pipa sound of the spring began to condense, and the sound of poor condensation gradually stopped. Like another kind of sadness and hatred secretly breeds; At this time, it is more touching than the sound.
Suddenly, it seems that the silver bottle broke into the water and splashed; Like armored cavalry fighting with swords and guns. At the end of the song, she aimed at the center of the strings and parted them; The roar of four strings seems to tear the cloth. People from the East Ship and the West Ship listened quietly; I saw Bai Yue reflected in the middle of the river.
She thoughtfully put the pick away and inserted it on the strings; Finishing clothes still looks solemn. She said I was a famous singer in Beijing. My hometown is in Ling Ran, southeast of Chang 'an. Learn to play pipa at the age of thirteen; My name was included in the first lineup of Jiao Fang Philharmonic Orchestra. Every song makes the art masters gasp in admiration; Every time I make up Chengdu, I am envied by my fellow geisha. Rich children in Kyoto compete to offer color; I don't know how much red yarn I collected after playing a song. The silver grate in the hammer head is often broken when it is struck; I don't regret that the red skirt is stained with wine.
Spent year after year in laughter and farce; Autumn goes and spring comes, and good times are wasted. Brothers join the army, and the pimp's family has been broken; As time goes by, I get old and my skin color fades. Cars and horses in front of the door reduce diners; Youth is gone, so I have to marry a businessman. When businessmen value profits more than feelings, they tend to leave easily; He went to Fuliang to do tea business last month. He left, leaving me alone at the mouth of the river; The autumn moon accompanied me around the cabin, and the autumn water was cold. In the middle of the night, I often dream that I had a good time when I was young; I woke up crying in my dream, and my face was stained with tears. Listening to the cry of pipa, I have shook my head and sighed; It makes me sad to hear her talk again. We are all sad people who have fallen to the end of the world; When we meet today, why should we ask if you have met before?
Since I left the bustling capital Chang 'an last year; He was relegated to Xunyang River and often fell ill. Xunyang this place is desolate and remote without music; You can't hear orchestral instruments all year round. Living in a low-lying and humid place on the Ganjiang River; Yellow reeds and bitter bamboo surround the first house. What can you hear here sooner or later? Full of sad cries of cuckoo apes.
Please don't refuse to sit down and play another song; I want to write 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 the urgent tone. Sadness is no longer like the sound just now; People here are hard of hearing, hiding their faces and crying. My tears of Jiangzhou Sima soaked my blue skirt! My tears of Jiangzhou Sima soaked my blue skirt!
Extended data:
Pipa Xing is one of the long Yuefu poems written by Bai Juyi, a poet in the Tang Dynasty. Eleven years of Yuanhe (8 16). This poem reveals the unreasonable phenomena such as bureaucratic corruption, the decline of people's livelihood and the burying of talents in feudal society by describing the superb playing skills and unfortunate experiences of the pipa girl, expressing the poet's deep sympathy for her and the poet's resentment at her innocent demotion.
Pipa Travel portrays two characters. In the middle Tang Dynasty, the commercial economy was developed, the city was deformed and prosperous, and under the political background of conflicting and sinister intentions at that time, the images of pipa women and poets all had their practical typical significance. This poem uses image analogy to compare the grief, anger and misfortune between the two people, and finally combines them into one, thus drawing the conclusion that both artistic images have the feeling of being powerless and reduced to the end of the world. Image analogy and lyrical expression are full of strong artistic appeal.
About the author:
Bai Juyi (772-846) was born in Xinzheng, Henan, and his ancestral home was Taiyuan, Shanxi. He was a great realistic poet in the Tang Dynasty and one of the three great poets in the Tang Dynasty. Bai Juyi and Yuan Zhen * * * advocated the new Yuefu movement, and together with Liu Yuxi, they called the world "Bai Yuan" and "Bai Liu".
Bai Juyi's poems have a wide range of themes, various forms and simple and popular language, and are known as "the poet's magic" and "the king of poets". Official to Hanlin bachelor, Zuo Zanshan doctor. In 846 AD, Bai Juyi died in Luoyang and was buried in Xiangshan. Up to now, there are Bai's "Changqing Collection", and the representative works include Song of Eternal Sorrow, Charcoal Man, Pipa Travel and so on.
References:
Baidu encyclopedia-pipa star