In the tenth year of Yuanhe, Yu moved to Sima, Jiujiang County. Next autumn, I will send a guest to Pukou, and I will hear those pipa players in the middle of the night. Listen to its voice, there is the voice of Kyoto. Ask him, Ben Chang 'an advocates women and is good at learning pipa from Mu and Cao. Old age is fading, and I am committed to being a wife. Then he ordered wine and asked Aauto Quicker to play some songs. When I was young, I told myself my happiness. Now I am wandering, haggard and wandering between rivers and lakes. I have been an official for two years, and I feel very comfortable. I feel like I've moved to the next night. Because of the long sentences, I gave them songs, all of which were 6 16 words. Life is called pipa xing. On the first night of the Xunyang River (1), the maple leaves and mature rushes rustle in autumn. Master (2) got off the boat and we raised our glasses to drink-but, alas, there was 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 direction of the melody and 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, refilled the lamp with wine, and resumed the party. 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. The rotating shaft plucks the strings three or two times, and even before she plays, we can feel her feelings. Chord suppression (5) Acoustic 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". (6) Big strings (7) are like torrential rain, and small strings are like secret words. Humming, whispering-and then mixing together, like pouring large and small pearls into a plate of jade. The flower bottom of the closed gap (8) is slippery, and it is difficult for swallow to 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. With a stream of water, a silver vase suddenly broke, and armored horses and weapons jumped out and collided with each other. Before she put down the pick, her stroke was over, and all four strings made a sound, just like tearing silk. The east ship and the west ship (1 1) were silent, and we saw the white autumn moon entering the river. She was thoughtfully placed on the plucked strings, stood up and smoothed her clothes, which was very formal and polite (12). Tell us how she spent her girlhood in the capital. She lives in the frog tomb (13). [Tomb of Frogs (há má)] And he mastered the guitar at the age of thirteen, which belongs to the first piece of Jiao Fang (14). Her art is envied by experts, and her dress is envied by Qiu Niang (15). How did the aristocratic youths in Wuling compete generously? Countless red silks were given to a song. The silver comb inlaid with shells was broken by her rhythm, and the bloody skirt was stained with wine. Season after season, joy followed, and neither the autumn moon nor the spring breeze attracted her attention. Until her brother went to war, and then her aunt died, and the night passed, and the night came, and her beauty disappeared. Lengma was at the door, so at last she gave her wife to a businessman. Who, first of all, stole money, accidentally left her and went to Fuliang to buy tea a month ago. She has been taking care of an empty boat in the estuary, with no companions except the bright moon and cold water. Sometimes in the middle of the night, she dreams of her victory and is awakened from her dream by her hot tears. Her first guitar note made me sigh. Now, after listening to her story, I feel even sadder. We were all unhappy until the end of the day, when we met. We understand. What is the relationship between acquaintances? ! A year ago, I left the capital and came here. Now I am a sick Jiujiang exile. Jiujiang is so far away that I haven't heard music, neither strings nor bamboo sounds for a whole year. My residence is near the town by the river, low and humid, and the house is surrounded by bitter reeds and yellow rushes. What can you hear here in the morning and evening? ? The cuckoo's bleeding cry, the ape's sobbing. I often pick up the wine and drink it alone in the morning of spring with flowers and the night of autumn with moonlight shining. Of course, there are folk songs and bagpipes in the village, but they are rough and harsh, and they are harsh in my ears. Tonight, when I heard you playing the guitar, I felt that my hearing was illuminated by wonderful music. Don't leave us. Come, sit down. Play it for us again. Translate the travel notes of pipa for you. ... she was moved by my words, stood there for a while, and then sat down to play her strings-they sounded even sadder. Although the tune was different from what she had played before, all the listeners covered their faces. But which of them cried the most? ? This Jiujiang official. My blue sleeves are wet. (parallel)
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