琵琶行

白居易 （772-846）

元和十年，余左迁九江郡司马，明年秋，送客湓浦口，闻舟中夜弹琵琶者，听其音，铮铮有京都音。问其人，本长安倡女，尝学琵琶于穆、曹二善才。年长色衰，委身为贾人妇。遂命酒，使快弹数曲。曲罢悯然，自叙少年欢乐事，今飘零憔悴，转徙于江湖间.余出官二年，恬然自安，感斯人言，是夕始觉有迁谪意，因为长句，歌以赠之。凡616言，命曰《琵琶行》。

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，别时茫茫江侵月。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。轻栊漫捻摸复挑,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。间关鹦语花底滑，幽咽流泉水下滩。别有幽愁暗生，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。曲罢曾叫善才服，装成每被秋娘妒。五陵少年争缠头，一曲红绡不知数。钿头云篦击节碎，血色罗裙翻酒污。今年欢笑复明年，春花秋月等闲度。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，去年浮梁买茶去。归来江口守空船，水绕明月江水寒。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。住近湓江地尽湿，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，嘔哑嘲哳难为听。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。

The Lute-girl

陈水明（1962届） 译

【Preface】

In the tenth year of ‘yuanhe’, I was demoted as an officer in Jiujiang Prefecture. Next autumn, I saw off a guest of mine to the side of Xunyang River, where I heard there was a lute-player. The sound seemed from the capital. Asking the player, I got to know originally she was a singing girl of Changan, had learned playing lute from Mu and Cao, two well-known musicians. Getting old and beauty declining, she had to marry a merchant. Then I had a feast prepared and asked her to play some tunes. After doing, she got grieved and complained her past happiness; afterward got wandering and haggard and wondered among rivers and lakes. I have been here for two years and feel quite easy. But at that night, moved by her narration, I started to feel the dismissed meaning. Thus I composted a song to present to her, about 616 characters in total and named it as <The Lute-girl>.

At an autumn night, on the Xunyang river fell, I saw off a guest of mine, when the chill wind blew the maple-leaves and the reed flowers whistling in the autumn air. I dismounted and had a parting feast with my guests on the boat, where we raised our cups and wished to drink, regretfully, there was no music. Thus we didn’t feel joyous as we’d part from each other, when the vast river stream reflected the light of the moon. Suddenly, a lute’s melody came, which caused the host forget to return and the guest, to start off. Following the sound we looked for the player, but no responsive voice replied. Now we moved our boat near hers and invited her to join us. Again, prepared liquor and lighted the candle to start the feat. But she appeared by our again and again calls, still half hid her face behind a lute. She turned the roller of the lute and tried the strings for several times. The tunes still not completed but seemed full of emotion. The mourning sound of the lute contained meditation, which seemed to tell her hard fortune. Lowering head she was playing, with the lute sounds she expressed all her past unfortunate fate. Lightly brushing，slowly twisting, touching and picking the strings, she first played the tune of “Neon Clothes”, then, the tune of “Green Waist”. The sound of the large strings was like that of the violent storm, and that of the fine ones was like the secret confidences told.  And then both the large and the fine strings were intermingled, the sounds were like the large and the small pearls that dropped on a jade plate.  For a while the sound was like tactful and flowing bird’s singing under the flowers; for another while was like the water that gives out low and sobbing sound under the ice owing to being obscured. The flowing water freezes, also freezes the strings; and the frozen strings made the sound gradually suspended, from which was like a kind of melancholy and depression that secretly grew. During this period soundlessness heard was louder than sound. Suddenly it sounded like the water splashes because the silver jar is broken; still like the swords and the spears are crashing while two troops are fighting. After one tune finished, she fiddled with strings; and the sound was like the cloth that is being torn and the strings together loudly roaring. The people on the around boats were silently listening, and before them was only the moonlight reflected in the river.

Calmly she put the pick in the lute strings, rectified her clothes and showed her solemn appearance, then told us: “Originally I was a well-known singing-girl, lived in the Hamaling, which was located in the southeast of the capital, Changan city. At 13 years old, I had mastered the skill of playing lute; my name belonged to the first department of Songstress Institution. After playing every tune I was highly valued by the well-known musicians, and was admired by my companions after I had pricked myself up. The noble and rich strove to provide their gifts to me, and after every tune I played I could receive countless red silk clothes. The silver time-beating rod I used was often broken and the sweet liquor I drank also often spoiled my red silk skirt. Merrily laughing and playing were my regular work. Year after year while the spring flowers bloom and autumn moonlight shines were lightly spent. Afterward, my younger brother joined up, my aunt passed away and the ruthless time stripped me of beauty. The horses and coaches before my house got fewer and fewer. At last I had to marry a merchant. He pays much attention to making money and makes light of parting. Last year he went to Fuliang for tea trading and left me here alone to live in an empty boat. What accompanies with me is the chill moonlight that shines the boat and the cold autumn river water. At the deep night, suddenly I dreamt the days when I was young, and wept and wept, till my checks were covered with tears.”  Her pathetic and touching muted sound had made me sigh, now this complaint made me still bitterly melancholy. In my thought:  “Both she and I are miserable people in the remoter world; why should we have known each other now we meet? “

(Then I told her) “Last year, I said good-by to the capital, came and fell ill here, Xinyang city, owing to demotion. This place is so desolate that no music heard all the year long.  The Pen River side ,where I live, is dark and damp and around there grow yellow reeds and bitter bamboo. What I can hear from morning till night are the miserable morns of the monkeys and the blood-crowing sound of the cuckoos. During the good time when the spring flowers bloom and the autumn moonlight shines, I often alone drink．Could there not be any folk songs and sounds of village flute? Yes, but they are so unpleasant that disgustedly be heard. Hearing the music you played with lute, I feel it is as nice as the fairy one coming from the Heaven.  Come, sit down, play for us again, and I will compose the words for you, the title of which may be called <Song of Lute>”. Moved by what I said, she stood there for a moment, then sat down, tightened the strings and passed into another song; so sad and soft, the tunes of which were different from what she played before. During this time all her hearers wept in sorrow unrestrained. But who of them all was weeping the most? I, an official of Jiang city; tears drenched the bosom of my gown.