Pipa Travel Notes Tang Bai Juyi
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.
She tied it thoughtfully on the rope, stood up and smoothed her clothes, serious and polite. Tell us how she spent her girlhood in the capital and lived in her parents' house in Toad Hill. She mastered the guitar at the age of thirteen, and her name ranked first in the list of musicians. Her art even attracted the appreciation of experts, and her beauty attracted the envy of all major dancers. 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.
Vernacular translation:
Go to Xunyang Jiangtou to see the guests off at night. The autumn wind blows through the maple leaves, and the flowers make a sound, which is a bleak scene. I got off the horse and went to the boat where the guests were, raising a glass and drinking, but there was no music to entertain me. Although I drank a lot of wine, I was not happy at all. I left sadly, and when I left, a river reflected the moon. Suddenly I heard the pipa on the water. Forgot to go back, and the guests didn't set sail.
With the sound search, quietly ask who is playing the pipa? The pipa stopped, and the player seemed to want to say it but hesitated. Bring the boat closer, invite her out to meet, add wine, turn on the boat lights and reopen the banquet. After repeated requests, she came out, still holding a pipa to cover half her face. I turned the shaft better, fiddled with the strings and tried to play it two or three times, but I couldn't play the music, so I showed my feelings first.
The strings are hidden, and the voice is full of thoughts. It seems to be telling me that I am not satisfied with my life. Bow your head and keep playing, telling the infinite worries in your heart.
Twist, touch and pick gently, play the colorful feather first, and then play six. The big string sounds like a storm, and the small string sounds like a whisper. Noisy and cutting sound are mixed together, just like pearls, big and small, falling on a jade plate. Like Oriole singing, flying around under the flower bed, and like a sobbing spring flowing under the ice.
At this time, the music is stagnant like a spring under the ice, and the strings seem to be frozen. The sound was blocked and gradually stopped. The sadness and resentment hidden in my heart arises spontaneously, and silence is better than sound at this moment. Suddenly it looks like a silver bottle breaking the surface, and suddenly it appears like an iron horse: the sound of a knife and a gun. At the end of the tune, the plectrum is put away and scratched in the center of the pipa, and the four strings sound like tears.
There was no sound around the ship, only a bright Bai Yue in the middle of the river. Hesitated, put down the dial and put it in the string, adjusted the clothes, and looked solemn. She said that she was from Beijing and lived in Ling Ran. At the age of thirteen, he learned to play the pipa, ranking first in the teaching workshop. Singing a song often teaches musicians to admire. Dressing up is the envy of other women.
The rich children in Wuling area competed for the reward and sang a song, and I don't know how much red yarn to give. The beating time broke the silver grate on the head, and the red skirt was stained by drinking and having fun. After years of play, youth is so easily spent. My brother joined the army, my aunt died, and my face is getting old. There is a lot of traffic in front of the door, and there are fewer people and more cars. When I get old, I have to marry a businessman as my wife. Businessmen value interests over parting. Last month, they went to Fuliang to buy tea.
He left me alone at the mouth of the river, surrounded by the bright moon and the cold river. I suddenly dreamed of my childhood in the middle of the night, and I cried in the dream, and the powder and tears flowed down together.
I sighed after listening to the pipa, and I sighed even more after listening to her words. We are all wandering around the world. Why should we know each other when we meet? I have been ill since I left Beijing last year and was demoted to Xunyang City. Xunyang is remote and there is no music, and there is no orchestral sound for many years. I live near the Ganjiang River, and the terrain is low and wet. Yellow reeds and bitter bamboo are born around the house.
What do you listen to in the morning and evening? Cuckoo whines, ape whines. On spring mornings or autumn moonlit nights, people often drink alone. Isn't there a folk song or a flute? The noise is really hard to hear. Listening to you play the pipa tonight is like listening to Yue Xian. My ears are refreshed for a while.
Please don't refuse, sit down and play another song. I'll write the lyrics "Pipa Travel" for you according to the tune. She was moved by my words, stood for a long time, and then returned to her original seat to adjust the strings, and the strings were anxious. Sadly, it doesn't sound like that. All the people here hide their faces and cry. Who shed the most tears? Jiangzhou Sima's clothes are wet.
Scene fusion technology in the extended material of Pipa Xing;
The emotional factors of the events described in this poem (seeing the guests off at Jiangtou on autumn night, the tragic fate of the pipa girl, and the author's relegation life); Description of scenery, contrast of atmosphere; A detailed description of the movements and psychology of the characters; Characters pour out their grief in a lyrical way; Accurate explanation and ingenious exposition are wonderful for shaping the image of pipa women and cannot be ignored.
All these make this poem full of lyrical atmosphere, realize the close combination of narrative and lyricism, and enhance the emotional color and artistic charm of the work. He combined the singer and the singer's thoughts and feelings into one, saying that you are talking about me and I am talking about you. Fates are the same and closely related.
After the lute girls narrated their life experiences, the poet thought that they were "neither of us is happy-forever old"; After the poet told her life story, the pipa girl was "... moved by what I said, and she stood there for a while". After the pipa girl played another song, the poet was even more "this Jiujiang official. My blue sleeves are wet. " Intimate friends are touching everywhere, and there is love everywhere.