What classical poems describe beautiful voices?

There are the following three sentences in China's ancient poems: "Imitate sound to write".

Han Yu's Listening to Ying Shi Playing the Piano, Bai Juyi's Pipa, and Li He's Poems by Li Ping.

Listen to Ying Shi play the piano.

Just like a pair of close children whispering, I had a dark conversation with two beautiful friends, the secretary.

Like the wind, who is singing the flag? A soldier likes to fight the king with his sword.

Clouds and catkins have no roots,

The world is wide and far away.

There were hundreds of birds, and suddenly I saw a lonely phoenix.

You can't climb this line,

Fall out of favor and fall.

I have two ears, so I don't have to listen to diaosi.

Listening to your music, the piano suddenly rose, making people sit down low.

In the panic, I reached out to block my chin, and tears had already poured into my eyes.

It's not unusual for a master to be good at kung fu. Don't fill my chest with ice and fire.

Original: quotations from Li Ping

Wu Si, Shu and Zhang Tong are in high autumn, and the empty mountains are not flowing.

Jiang Yue wept for Motome's sadness, while Ping Li was playing China.

Kunshan jade broken Fengming, hibiscus crying, Xianglan laughing.

The cold light melts in front of the twelve gates, and the twenty-three silk moves the purple emperor.

Nu Wa makes up the sky by refining stones, and the stones break the ground to stir up the autumn rain.

Dream into the holy mountain to teach the gods, and the old fish dance with the waves.

Wu Mian leans against the laurel tree, showing his feet and flying obliquely to wet cold rabbits.

Original text; Pipa player's song

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.

With a stream of water, a silver vase suddenly broke; The soldiers screamed with swords and guns.

Before she put down the pick, her stroke was over, and all four strings made a sound, just like tearing silk.