Original text:
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.
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 frustration of her 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.
Creative background:
Bai Juyi's original Pipa Story is selected from Bai Changqing's Collection. Xing, also known as "Gexing", originated from Yuefu in Han and Wei Dynasties and is one of its famous songs. Bai Juyi's Pipa: Dong Qichang's Book. He doesn't have many cursive scripts, nor is he very good. The predecessors of this volume once said that it is "vertical and horizontal, elegant and elegant, between Zhang and Su."
He himself said: "Bai Taifu (Bai Juyi) played the pipa, wishing he couldn't reach Zhang's height, and the rest were intoxicated at that time." White is almost the same? " Now it seems that this book is simple and plain, but in fact, its elegant posture and lack of pen power are his own true colors.
Originated from Yuefu in Han and Wei Dynasties, it is one of the names of Yuefu songs. The most famous one is Bai Juyi's Preface to Pipa. In Pipa, the "head-binding" in "Wuling Haozu competing with each other and a song of HongLing is numerous" refers to the gift given to geisha by guests. Poems named Pipa Yin are generally long in length, flexible in sentence structure, flat and elegant, rich in rhymes, and can be changed many times.