One night, by the river, I said goodbye to a friend;
Among the maple leaves and rushes, autumn seems to sigh.
My friend and I dismounted and came to the boat;
We want to drink, but there is no music on board.
Without the flute, we raise our glasses and drink with a heavy heart;
When we parted, moonlight and water mixed together.
Suddenly, we heard the sound of pipa from the stream;
I forgot to go home, and the guests just stood there.
We followed the direction of the music and found the performer.
But when the pipa stopped, there was no music in the air.
We moved the boat to the boat that invited the players.
She drank at the banquet in the light.
We called again to urge her to show up until
Here she comes, her face half hidden behind a pipa.
She turned the wooden nail and tried each string two or three times;
Before a piece of music was played, we heard her feelings singing.
Then, she played a deep and intense sadness note by note;
It seems that she has never realized her dream in her life.
She lowered her head and played with unconscious art.
Keep pouring out her overflowing heart.
She gently dialed and stroked slowly, making a loud nasal sound.
The Song of Green Waist after rainbow cloud.
The thick strings make a loud noise, like the sound of falling rain;
The slender strings tinkle gently under the mumbling tension.
When loud and soft notes are mixed and played,
Twas are like pearls, big and small, dripping on a jade plate.
Now, like orioles singing in the flowery land,
Then sobbed, like a stream flowing along the beach.
But the stream seems so cold that it tightens the rope;
No sound can be heard from the taut strings.
We still hear hidden sadness and vague regret hidden;
What music expresses is far from what silence reveals.
Suddenly we heard the water break a silver jar.
The sound of knives and guns coming from a distance.
At the end of the music, she glanced at the center;
Four strings make a sound, just like silk being torn.
Silence rules the ship's left and right, east and west;
We only see the autumn moon whitening on the river's chest.
She thoughtfully plucked the pick between the strings,
Straighten out her clothes and stand up calmly.
"I spent," she said, "my early spring in the capital,
My home used to be at the foot of Toad Mountain.
When I was thirteen, I learned to play the pipa.
My name was one of the protagonists of that day.
My skill won the appreciation of my master,
The abandoned beauty is jealous of my beauty.
Brave young people rushed to give me gifts;
A tune with a good tune, countless silk rolls were happily sent out.
At the stroke of time, I let the silver comb and pin fall,
Spilled wine often dyed my silk robe red.
Year after year, I had a happy life with a smile.
On a moonlit night or a sunny day.
My brother went to war and killed my maid;
As the days passed and the night came, my beauty began to fade.
There are fewer and fewer carriages and horses in front of my door;
I married a self-righteous businessman when I was young.
Businessmen are more interested in money than I am;
He went to buy tea a month ago.
Leaving his lonely wife alone on an empty boat;
Covered in the moonlight, I floated on the cold river.
It was late at night, and I dreamed of the happy times in the past.
I woke up to find tears on my red face. "
Listening to her sad music, I sighed painfully;
After hearing her story, I sighed again and again.
"We both walked from one coast to another in misfortune.
Meet now. Have we known each other before?
I was expelled from the capital last year.
Living depraved and morbidly in this city.
The city is too far away to hear melodious songs.
So I haven't listened to music all year.
I live on low-lying and wet land by the river.
In a house, yellow reeds and short bamboos surround it.
From dawn to dusk, what is there to hear here?
But Biggs' cry and the cuckoo's cry to go home?
Under the blooming riverside and autumn moon
I often pick up the wine and drink it alone.
Of course I have folk songs and country bagpipes to listen to,
But they are rough and harsh.
Listen to you play the pipa tonight,
With your sacred music, my hearing seems to have brought.
Can you sit down and play another song for us?
I will write a favorite pipa ode for you. "
Moved by my words, the player stood for a long time.
Then sit down, fiddle with the strings and play another piece.
So sad, so sad, so different, it deeply touched us;
All those who heard it hid their faces and wept.
Of all the people present, who cried the most?
That was none other than the exiled blue robe host.