Bai Juyi
The emperor of China, eager to shake the beauty of an empire, has been in office for many years, searching and never finding it.
Until a child of the Yang family grew up in the inner room, almost before she grew up, and no one knew her.
However, due to the gift of heaven and no concealment, it was finally elected royal one day.
If she just turned her head and smiled, there were a hundred spells, and the powder and paint of six palaces disappeared without a trace.
It was early spring. They let her bathe in a pure pool to warm and smooth her creamy skin.
Because she was tired, a maid lifted her up, when the emperor noticed her for the first time and chose her as his bride.
On the night of spring, the warm hibiscus curtains covered her fluttering hair, petals on her cheeks and golden ripples on her head.
But the night in spring is short and the sun rises too fast. Since then, the emperor has given up his early hearing.
He wastes all his time on parties and revelry. He is the lover of spring and the tyrant of night.
There are other ladies in his court, 3,000 of whom are stunning beauties, but his love for 3,000 is concentrated on one person.
The golden house is dressed up to serve the night. When the table in the jade tower is cleaned, she will wander around and drink wine slowly.
Her sisters and brothers were all given titles because she lit up and glorified her family so much.
When a girl is born instead of a boy, she brings happiness to every father and mother in the empire.
... high rose plum palace, into the blue clouds, and the wide breeze carries magical notes.
Soft songs and slow dances, strings and bamboo music, the emperor's eyes can never stare at her.
I was amazed at the colorful feathers until the earth-shattering sound of drums came from Yuyang.
The Forbidden City, a nine-story palace, is hidden in the dust and travels southwest from thousands of chariots and horses.
The imperial flag opened the way, suddenly moving and stopping, 30 miles from the capital and passing the west gate.
People in the army stop, and no one will move until they are under their hooves. They may trample on those moths.
The gorgeous hairpin fell to the ground, and no one picked it up, a green and white Hosta and a golden hairy bird.
The emperor couldn't save her, so he had to cover his face. Later, when he turned to look, there was blood and tears.
Hidden in the yellow dust blown by the cold wind, they crossed a cloud line at the crack of the path of the dagger tower;
Under Emei Mountain. The last few came, and the flags and banners lost their colors in the fading sun.
Your majesty's love is so eternal that it is deeper than the sky.
He stared at the desolate moon from his temporary palace, and he heard the rain at dusk, cutting his chest.
Heaven and earth last contact, dragon car home, the emperor.
The memory and pain are buried in the soil of Maweipo. Where is her white face? .
Rulers and lords, when their eyes met, cried on their coats. They rode horses, loosened the reins and slowly returned to the capital.
Pond, garden, palace, everything is the same as before, Taiye Lake hibiscus, Weiyang Palace willow.
But the petals are like her face, and the willow leaves are like her eyebrows. Whenever he looks at them, what can he do but cry? !
Peach and plum trees are in bloom. In the spring wind, after the autumn rain, the leaves fall to the ground.
The palaces in the west and south are scattered with evening grass, and the steps are piled with red leaves that are not swept.
Bai Fuxin, a disciple of Li Yuan, and eunuchs in her pepper yard. .
Fireflies were flying on the throne, and he was meditating in the twilight. , he will extend the wick to its end and still never fall asleep. ..
Bells and drums will slowly ring the long night, and before dawn, the Milky Way in the sky will become clear.
And the porcelain mandarin ducks on the roof grow thick morning cream, and the jade is cold. Who's with * * *?
The distance between life and death is year after year, but no beloved soul has visited his dream.
There lived a Taoist priest in Lingqiong. He was a guest in the sky and could summon the gods through his concentration.
People were moved by the emperor's constant meditation, and they begged the Taoist priest to see if he could find her.
He opened a path in space, like lightning, cut through the sky, up and down, looking for it everywhere.
Above, he looked for the green void, below, the yellow spring, but he didn't find the one he was looking for in two places.
Then he heard a story about a magical island at sea, which is part of the invisible world.
There are pavilions in the five-color sky, and exquisite immortals walk back and forth.
And one of them, they call it forever true, has a face like her snow and flowers.
So he went to the golden gate of the West Hall, knocked on the Jasper Gate, and asked a girl named Small jade to tell Shuang Perfect.
This lady, after hearing the news of Emperor China's envoy, woke up from her dream in her canopy.
She pushed open the pillow, got dressed, shook off her drowsiness, opened the pearly curtain, and then opened the silver screen.
Ji Yun is half asleep, and her flowered hat is loose when she walks along the balcony.
A breeze blew her cloak and fluttered with her movements, as if she were dancing with a rainbow skirt and feather coat.
Tears fell from her sad pale face, just like the spring rain on pear flowers.
But when she asked him to thank her monarch, her eyes shone with love. Since they separated, her form and voice were unfamiliar to her.
Because happiness ends in the courtyard of the sun, the moon and dawn become long in the palace of Xianshan.
But when she turned to look down at the earth and tried to see the capital, there was only fog and dust.
So she took out the keepsake he gave, and gave him a shell box and a gold hairpin through his messenger.
However, one branch of the hairpin and one side of the box were kept, and the gold of the hairpin and the shell of the box were broken.
"Our souls belong to each other," she said, "just like this gold and this shell." Somewhere, at some time, on earth or in heaven, we will be together.
She sent him a message through his messenger, reminding him that only the hearts of the two of them knew the oath.
On the seventh day of July, in the Palace of Eternal Life, we secretly told each other in the quiet midnight world.
We hope to fly in heaven, two birds become one and grow on the earth, two branches of a tree. ..
The earth endures, and the sky endures; One day both will end, and this endless sadness will last forever.
Bai Juyi's Pipa Journey
Pipa player's song
order
In the tenth year of Yuanhe, Yu moved to Sima, Jiujiang County. Next autumn, I will send a guest to Pukou, and I will hear those pipa players in the middle of the night. Listen to its voice, there is the voice of Kyoto. Ask him, Ben Chang 'an advocates women and tastes pipa in Mu and Cao Ershan; Old age is fading, and I am committed to being a wife. Then he ordered wine and asked him to play a few songs quickly, and the music was merciful. I said that I was happy when I was young, but now I am drifting away and wandering between rivers and lakes. After two years as an official, I feel at ease and feel that I have moved towards the future. Because of the long sentences, the songs are given to them. Every 6 16 word is called Pipa Xing.
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 direction of the melody and 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 brushed the strings, slowly twisted, swept and plucked, first the air in the rainbow skirt, then the six small ones.
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 and the west ship were silent, and we saw the white autumn moon entering the river.
She tied the rope thoughtfully, stood up, smoothed her clothes, and was 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.
Song often impressed people, and her beauty envied all the leading dancers.
How did the aristocratic youths in Wuling compete generously? Countless red silks were given to a song.
And the blood color of the skirt was stained by wine, China.
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.
There were fewer and fewer cars and horses in front of the door, and finally she married herself 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. I will write a Long song about guitar. ..
... 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.