I, the master, have dismounted, my guest has boarded his boat, and we raise our glasses in the hope of drinking-but, alas, there is no music.
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.
It took a thousand entreaties before she appeared.
... she turned the tuning pin and tried some strings.
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.
She only scratched before she put down the pick.
She tied it thoughtfully on the rope, stood up and smoothed her clothes, serious and polite.
This is it, that's right.