琵琶行 白居易

浔阳江头夜送客，枫叶荻花秋瑟瑟。

主人下马客在船，举酒欲饮无管弦。

醉不成欢惨将别，别时茫茫江浸月。

忽闻水上琵琶声，主人忘归客不发。

寻声暗问弹者谁？琵琶声停欲语迟。

移船相近邀相见，添酒回灯重开宴。

千呼万唤始出来，犹抱琵琶半遮面。

转轴拨弦三两声，未成曲调先有情。

弦弦掩抑声声思，似诉平生不得志。

低眉信手续续弹，说尽心中无限事。

轻拢慢捻抹复挑，初为《霓裳》后《六幺》,

大弦嘈嘈如急雨，小弦切切如私语。

嘈嘈切切错杂弹，大珠小珠落玉盘。

间关莺语花底滑，幽咽泉流冰下难。

冰泉冷涩弦凝绝，凝绝不通声暂歇。

别有幽愁暗恨生，此时无声胜有声。

银瓶乍破水浆迸，铁骑突出刀枪鸣。

曲终收拨当心画，四弦一声如裂帛。

东船西舫悄无言，唯见江心秋月白。

沉吟放拨插弦中，整顿衣裳起敛容。

自言本是京城女，家在虾蟆陵下住。

十三学得琵琶成，名属教坊第一部。

曲罢曾教善才服，妆成每被秋娘妒。

五陵年少争缠头，一曲红绡不知数。

钿头银篦击节碎，血色罗裙翻酒污。

今年欢笑复明年，秋月春风等闲度。

弟走从军阿姨死，暮去朝来颜色故。

门前冷落鞍马稀，老大嫁作商人妇。

商人重利轻别离，前月浮梁买茶去。

去来江口守空船，绕船月明江水寒。

夜深忽梦少年事，梦啼妆泪红阑干。

我闻琵琶已叹息，又闻此语重唧唧。

同是天涯沦落人，相逢何必曾相识！

我从去年辞帝京，谪居卧病浔阳城。

浔阳地僻无音乐，终岁不闻丝竹声。

住近湓江地低湿，黄芦苦竹绕宅生。

其间旦暮闻何物？杜鹃啼血猿哀鸣。

春江花朝秋月夜，往往取酒还独倾。

岂无山歌与村笛？呕哑嘲哳难为听。

今夜闻君琵琶语，如听仙乐耳暂明。

莫辞更坐弹一曲，为君翻作《琵琶行》。

感我此言良久立，却坐促弦弦转急。

凄凄不似向前声，满座重闻皆掩泣。

座中泣下谁最多？江州司马青衫湿。

《琵琶行》

Song of Pipa

Bai Juyi

Tr. Feng Hong

By Xunyang Riverside I see off my friend,

The autumn rustle of maple leaves and reeds can be heard.

We got off the horses to board the boat,

Cups raised to drink but with no note.

Sorrowfully drunk to see off each other,

Only I found the moon immersed into the river.

All of a sudden from the water pipa was heard,

Then the host and guest all absorbed.

To trace who was the player,

Then sounds halted a while with no answer.

Moving our boat closer to meet,

We added more wine to restart the feast.

Invited to come out again and again,

She held her pipa with her face half hidden.

To reset and tune the couple of echoes,

The melody was only the part but triggered the souls.

Plucking each string to express concern

Seems to confide the frustration then.

Lowering her head, at random to play on,

She told the suffering days bygone.

With light hold, slow stroke and loud twang,

She played Rainbow Cloud and Green Waist then.

The thick strings with lowness was like a tempest,

While the fine twittered and just whispered.

The thick and fine strings blended to play,

Like pearls, big or small falling the jade tray.

Sometimes it liked orioles under the flowers chirping,

Or the spring beneath the ice oozing.

The strings were chanting as the icy spring was hard going,

Then a pause made the notes vanishing;

Hence sorrow and resentment sweeping the crowd,

The deadened strings rather spoke aloud.

Again the silver jar cracked and water splashed;

Soon out rushed the cavalry and swords clashed.

In the end plectrums flashed from the central board;

Sounds of four strings were to rend the silk aloud.

Boats around were soundless tonight,

And the autumn moon in river was bright.

She was still a while, then to arrange the plectrums,

And ensured the tidiness in her dress and appearance.

She told she was from the capital,

Her home closer to the Toad Hill.

At thirteen, she was skilled to play,

Music office saw her ranking the first anyway.

The peer appreciated her performance,

And of her beauty the maids were jealous.

The wealthy youth raced to present the gifts,

One piece won a bundle of red headscarves.

For beats, silver pins or combs were often broken;

The stained gowns were blood-colored for spilled wine.

Year by year she sang the gleeful songs for pleasure,

From spring to autumn loafing time as usual.

Her brother was conscripted and her mam died;

Years later she was getting to be aged.

Horses and carts in front of the door were no more,

Then she had to marry a merchant not long before.

He cared about his profits but not her soul;

Last month he went to Fuliang to trade tea for sale.

He was away but she saw the vacant boat for whole day;

Around it with the chilly river the moon lay.

The midnight presented the dreams of young deeds,

With the sobs and the stains of powder faces.

When I heard the melody I sighed,

Now the story made me chide.

We were depressed away from our door,

But meeting may not be acquainted before.

Since I parted the capital last year,

In Xunyang I’ve lived in exile and fell ill here.

It’s too remote and notes were hardly heard,

Yearly I haven’t heard the stringed and woodwind.

My residence was lower and damper near the Pen River,

With wild reeds and bitter bamboos around hither.

What I often heard all day long

Was cuckoos lamenting and apes wailing.

As for spring flowers along the river and autumn moon night,

I had no mood to enjoy and alone took wine all right.

How about the folk song and bamboo flute?

Tones produced were hoarse for the sore throat.

Tonight I appreciated your pipa’s sweet melody,

Seeming to meet notes played by the fairy.

I invited her to play again,

And wrote her Song of Pipa then.

On hearing my words she still stood,

Then sat to play with the rapid speed.

More gloom was not as before,

Shedding tears were the spectators all.

Whose tears were the most among them?

I, Jiangzhou procurator with black gown to stain