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.
Guan Yingying's ass was slippery when she spoke, and we heard a stream sobbing painfully on the beach.
By checking its cold touch, this string seems to be broken, as if it can't pass; And notes, fade away.
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.
Pipa Xing is one of the long Yuefu poems written by Bai Juyi, a poet in the Tang Dynasty. Eleven years of Yuanhe (8 16). This poem reveals the unreasonable phenomena such as bureaucratic corruption, the decline of people's livelihood and the burying of talents in feudal society by describing the superb playing skills and unfortunate experiences of the pipa girl, expressing the poet's deep sympathy for her and the poet's resentment at her innocent demotion.
2. Shen Yue's Yongzheng Southern Dynasties
Qin Zheng spit out the melody, and Yu Zhu sang the melody.
The string is broken by high, and the sound continues with the wonderful finger.
Yan Ruyu's better understanding is to listen to the sound.
On Zheng is a five-character poem written in the Southern Dynasties. The title of this poem is Ode to the Zheng, but it is not about the object of this instrument, but about listening to people play the Zheng.
Appreciation: These two sentences describe the beauty of Zheng music from the perspective of listening. However, the beauty of music and the beautiful voice of guzheng must be played by masters. Therefore, the listener's attention will naturally shift from enjoying the music to watching the guzheng players play. Write the following two sentences about the Zheng.
Li Bai's "Listening to Lu Qin on a Moonlit Night": Sitting on the bright moon at a leisurely night, a quiet person plays the pipa. Suddenly, I heard the tune of Hate Taiwan, just like a cold song. The snow is messy and the green water is modest. The clock has been running for a long time, and there is not a bosom friend in the world.
There's something else about this: the reverberation lingers for three days! Chun Xue sings high and low.