The highest evaluation of words that describe beautiful singing is to walk around the beam for three days. The origin of words is a classical Chinese.
Bai Juyi's pipa is the first poem in the second verse,
Attached are two poems about the origin
Three days around the beam
Xue Tan learned from Qin Qing, and he claimed to have exhausted his skills before he was poor; I resigned. Qin Qing stopped; In the suburbs, touching elegies and vibrating trees, very sonorous. Xue Tan thanked for his rebellion and never dared to say anything for life. Qin Qing said to his friend, "In the past, when Han E was in the East, he was short of food and passed through Yong Men, and he sang songs and pretended to eat. When I left, the reverberation was lingering, and I kept going for three days, so I left and right. If you go against the journey, you will be humiliated by those who go against it. Han E Inman wailed, and all ages were sad for a long time, weeping and not eating for three days. Catch up with it. E also, back to Long song. For a long time, the old and the young danced happily, and the Buddha could not help himself, but forgot to be sad. It's a generous gift. Therefore, the people of Yong Men are good at singing and crying up to now, and let out the legacy of moths.
Pipa Xing Bai Juyi
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. Between Guan Ying's words, the bottom of the flower is slippery, and it is difficult for you to swallow the spring and flow under the ice.
The ice spring is cold and astringent, 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, I can only see the autumn moon in the heart of the river. Thoughtfully put it in the 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.
her art the admiration even of experts, her beauty the envy of all the leading dancers. Wuling teenagers struggle to tie their heads, and numberless red rolls of silk been given for one song.
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. Go to Jiangkou for an empty boat, no company but the bright moon and the cold water.
and sometimes in the deep of night she would dream of her triumphs, her dream is red and her tears are dry. 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 resigned from Imperial Capital, and am now a sick exile here in Jiujiang, last year.
and so remote is Jiujiang that I have heard no music, neither string nor bamboo, for a whole year. Living near the city of Kancheng is low in humidity, 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.
of course there are the mountain songs and the village pipes? 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?? This Jiujiang official. My blue sleeve was wet. 2. In ancient times, there was a classical Chinese article describing various voices, which described your business slowly and beautifully. There were ventriloquists in Beijing. Guests were given a big banquet in the northeast corner of the hall, and the ventriloquists sat in the barrier, with a table, a chair, a fan and a stroke of a foot. All the guests were seated. After a while, they heard that the stroke of the foot in the barrier was full of silence. Her husband talks nonsense. When she wakes up, she cries loudly. Her husband wakes up. She caresses her children's breasts, and her children cry with breasts, while her children clap and blare. When she wakes up, her hands clap, her mouth blare, her children cry with breasts, her children wake up early, and her husband scolds her children, all of which are wonderful. The woman coughed in her dream. The guest was just sitting. Suddenly, one person shouted, "The fire started", the husband started to shout, and the woman also started to shout. Both of them cried together. Hundreds of people cried, hundreds of children cried, and hundreds of dogs barked. The sound of the middle force collapsed, the sound of fire, and the wind roared. There are also hundreds of cries for help, shouts of dragging the house, shouts of grabbing and splashing water. Everything has everything. Although people have hundreds of hands and fingers, they can't point to one end; People have a hundred mouths and tongues, so you can't name them all. So all the guests changed their colors and left the table, courageously armed, and they fought two battles, wanting to go first. Suddenly, they touched the ruler, and the group was silent. Take off the screen and look at it, just one person, one table, one chair, one fan and one ruler. 3. Classical Chinese examples describing sounds
The most famous description of sounds is Bai Juyi's Pipa Xing, the large strings hummed like rain and 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. Between Guan Ying's words, the bottom of the flower is slippery, and it is difficult for you to swallow the spring and flow under the ice.
when the ice spring is cold and astringent, the string will freeze, and the freeze will never stop. 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 is also an article "Mouth skills" about sound. There are people who are good at mouth skills in Beijing. They will have a big banquet. In the northeast corner of the hall, they will put up an eight-foot barrier. The ventriloquist will sit in the barrier, with a table, a chair, a fan and a ruler. The guests will sit in the group. After a while, they will be silent when they touch the ruler in the barrier. Those who dare not make a fuss are far away. The woman clapped her hands and blared. Another big boy woke up, and she couldn't stop talking. When it did, the woman clapped her hands, blared in her mouth, cried her breasts, woke up at the beginning of the big boy, and yelled at the big boy. At one time, all the guests were ready. All the guests stretched out their necks, looked sideways, smiled and sighed silently, thinking it was wonderful. Soon, the husband screamed. The woman also shouted. Both of them cried together. Hundreds of people shouted, hundreds of children cried, and hundreds of dogs barked. The sound of the middle force pulling down, the hot sound, the roaring wind, and a hundred thousand works together; There are also hundreds of cries for help, shouts of dragging the house, shouts of grabbing and splashing water. Everything has everything. Although people have hundreds of hands and fingers, they can't point to one end; People have a hundred mouths and tongues, so you can't name them all. So all the guests changed their colors and left the table, courageously armed, and they fought two battles, wanting to go first. Suddenly, they touched the ruler, and the group was completely silent. Take off the screen and look at it, just one person, one table, one chair, one fan and one ruler. .。 4. In ancient times, there was a classical Chinese article describing various voices, which described your business slowly and beautifully. There are people who are good at ventriloquism in Beijing.
At the northeast corner of the hall, guests will have a big banquet, and an eight-foot barrier will be built. The ventriloquist will sit in the barrier, with a table, a chair, a fan and a ruler. The guests sat around the screen.
a moment later, but when I heard a stroke of the ruler in the barrier, I was completely silent, and no one dared to wow. Hearing a dog barking in the far lane, a woman woke up yawning and stretching, her husband talking in his sleep.
when you wake up, you cry. The husband is awake.
when a woman caresses her baby's breast, the baby cries, and when she pats it, she screams. Another big son woke up and spoke incessantly.
when it is, women clap their children's hands, their mouths blare, their children cry with breasts, their eldest children wake up at first, and their husbands scold their eldest children, all at once, and all are wonderful. The full guests did not have a long neck, the head listened carefully, smile, silently praise, think it is wonderful.
after a while, the husband's voice started, and the woman's pat gradually stopped. There was a faint sound of the sound of the rat's sosso, the basin and the vessel tipped over, and the woman coughed in her dream.
the guests are not comfortable, just sitting. Suddenly, a big man shouted, "Fire is on", the husband shouted, and the woman shouted.
they both cried. For a moment, hundreds of thousands of people shouted, hundreds of children crying, hundreds of dogs barking.
the sound of the intermediate force pulling and collapsing, the hot sound, the whistling wind, hundreds of works together; There were hundreds of cries for help, shouts of dragging the house, shouts of grabbing and splashing water. In this case, there should be some voices, not the same without.
Although people have hundreds of hands, they have hundreds of fingers, so they can't point to one end. A man has a hundred mouths, and his mouth has a hundred tongues. You can't name one place. In this case, the guests did not frighten the face, leave the seat, stroking the arms of the sleeves, two legs trembling, almost scrambling to escape.
suddenly, with a stroke of the ruler, the group rang until the end. Remove the screen inside, a person, a table, a chair, a fan, a piece of Wake Wood. 5. Classical Chinese describing music
The most classic article belongs to a passage in Bai Juyi's Pipa Xing:
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.
The flower bottom of Guan Ying's speech is slippery, but it's difficult to flow under the ice in the deep throat spring.
when the ice spring is cold and astringent, the string will freeze, and the freeze will never stop.
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.
Be careful when you finish the song, and all four strings made one sound, as of rending silk.
The full text is as follows:
Pipaxing
Tang-Bai Juyi
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, I want to drink a toast.
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.
who is the bomber? 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.
three or two strings are plucked on the rotating shaft, we could feel what she was feeling, even before she played.
each string a meditation, each note a deep thought seems to have complained that he was not satisfied in his 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, after the beginning of "Nishang", was Liu Yao.
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.
The flower bottom of Guan Ying's speech is slippery, but it's difficult to flow under the ice in the deep throat spring.
when the ice spring is cold and astringent, the string will freeze, and the freeze will never stop.
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.
Be careful when you finish the song, and all four strings made one sound, as of rending silk.
the east boat and the west boat are silent, and we saw the white autumnal moon enter the river's heart.
thoughtfully put in the plucked string, she rose and smoothed her clothing and, formal, courteous.
I said, "This is the daughter of Beijing, 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.
Qu Ba once taught the good to subdue, her beauty the envy of all the leading dancers.
Teenagers in the Five Tombs struggle to tie their heads, and numberless red rolls of silk been given for one song.
and skirts the colour of blood been spoiled with stains of wine, China.
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.
The pommel horse was neglected in front of the 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, no company but the bright moon and the cold water;
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.
of course there are the mountain songs and the village pipes? 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., translated Pipa Travel for you. "
...Moved by what I said, she stood there for a moment, then sat again to her strings-and they sounded even sadder.
it's not as sad as before, the feasters, all listening, covered their faces.
who cried the most during the sitting, this Jiujiang official. My blue sleeve was wet.
There are also some poems, such as:
This song should only be in the sky, and how many times can the world hear it (Du Fu)
Whose Yu Di flies in the dark, and the spring breeze fills Los Angeles (Li Bai). 6. What ancient poems are there to describe music?
The farewell in the travel notes of Bai Juyi's Bo Ya Jue Xian at nine o'clock the next day.
The Naming Lake Residence is a grand theater garden, with more than 1 tables in front of the stage. That [that] is the same as "where"
knowing that you have entered the garden gate, the structural auxiliary word [de] that you have already sat in the garden is the same as "de." It's full, only seven or eight tables in the middle are still empty.
All the tables are labeled "Fu Yuan", which refers to the yamen (official office) where the governor handles affairs. The governor of the Qing Dynasty was the chief executive of the provincial local government, who was also called Fu Tai and Fu Jun, and was also called Fu Yuan because he was also the right suggestion of Douchayuan as usual.
college [college] here refers to the college government. The college is the prefect college, which is an official in charge of a province's cultural and educational decrees, examinations and other things. Yongzheng was called the prefect to study politics four years ago.
a red note like "Ding". The old man looked at it for a long time, but there was nowhere to stay, so he had to take a look at it in his sleeve.
it took my son 2 yuan to get a short bench and sit down in the crevice. Look at the stage. There is only one and a half tables. There is a panel drum on the table, and two iron pieces are placed on the drum. I know this is the so-called pear flower Jane. There is a three-Killer next to it, and two chairs are placed behind the half table. No one is on the stage.
it's a huge stage, empty and empty, and there is nothing else, which makes me feel a little funny. In the garden, there are ten or twenty people selling fried dough sticks with baskets, all of which are bought for those who don't eat.
... at half past twelve, look at the stage. From the curtain behind the stage, a man comes out, wearing a long blue gown, with a long face and a pimple on his face, as if it were an air-dried tangerine (1). Skin-like, very ugly.
However, I thought that the smell of the man was still quiet, and he came out of the table without saying a word. So I sat down in a chair on my left hand behind half a table, slowly took the three Killer, and casually played a tune or two, and people didn't pay much attention to it. Later, I played a major, and I don't know what brand it was called. Only later, all the fingers were used to play musical instruments.
Several fingers plucked the strings continuously, making a rapid music sound. , the cadence, tempted, as if there are dozens of strings, hundreds of fingers, playing there.
At this time, the applause from the audience was endless, but Killer could not be suppressed. After playing this song, I stopped, and someone brought tea next to me.
After stopping for a few minutes, a girl, about 16 or 17 years old, with a long duck-egg face, combed a bun, an old girl's hairstyle. Comb your hair up, on your head.