| 題名： | 聽安萬善吹觱篥歌 |
| 作者： | 李頎 |
| 南山截竹爲觱篥， 此樂本自龜茲出。 流傳漢地曲轉奇， 涼州胡人爲我吹。 傍鄰聞者多歎息， 遠客思鄉皆淚垂。 世人解聽不解賞， 長飆風中自來往。 枯桑老柏寒颼飀， 九雛鳴鳳亂啾啾。 龍吟虎嘯一時發， 萬籟百泉相與秋。 忽然更作漁陽摻， 黃雲蕭條白日暗。 變調如聞楊柳春， 上林繁花照眼新。 歲夜高堂列明燭， 美酒一杯聲一曲。 | |
| 英譯： |
ON the southern hill a bamboo is cut to make a flageolet.
This instrument originally came from Kuei-tzŭ;
But entering Chinese territory it took on a strange note.
To-day a Mongol from Liang Chou makes music for me to hear
My neighbours listen; many of them sigh
Those who are exiles think of their homes and shed tears.
The world can listen but few are able to appreciate,
(For the music conjures up) the whirlwind that comes and goes
(Or visions) of the dead mulberry and the old cypress soughing in the cold blast;
(One hears) the nine fledgelings of the phœnix cheeping pitifully,
The dragon booms and the tigers roars; all in chorus.
A thousand noises of nature in the music of a hundred springs in autumn;
Suddenly the music changes to the lament of "Yü-yang."
Desolate yellow clouds obscure the bright day.
Again the music alters and one listens to the "Willows in Spring."
Or "Plum Blossom in the Imperial Gardens."
On New Year's Eve the high hall is lit with bright lanterns,
A cup of good wine in my hand and this music to listen to.
Bamboo from the southern hills was used to make this pipe. And its music, that was introduced from Persia first of all, Has taken on new magic through later use in China. And now the Tartar from Liang-chou, blowing it for me, Drawing a sigh from whosoever hears it, Is bringing to a wanderer's eyes homesick tears.... Many like to listen; but few understand. To and fro at will there's a long wind flying, Dry mulberry-trees, old cypresses, trembling in its chill. There are nine baby phoenixes, outcrying one another; A dragon and a tiger spring up at the same moment; Then in a hundred waterfalls ten thousand songs of autumn Are suddenly changing to The Yü-yang Lament; And when yellow clouds grow thin and the white sun darkens, They are changing still again to Spring in the Willow-Trees. Like Imperial Garden flowers, brightening the eye with beauty, Are the high-hall candles we have lighted this cold night, And with every cup of wine goes another round of music. The Tartar pipe came From the cut bamboo of South Mountain. This instrument was born of Persian hands. Plaintive is its tune When transplanted to the Han lands. A Tartar from Liangzhou plays for me, And sigh the companions who hear it. The travellers from afar Shed homesick tears. One enjoys the tune With yet no appreciation. One great wind moves freely, Whistling along the aged cypress And the withered mulberry. Nine phoenix nestlings Twitter in disarray. Blasting in unison, The dragons howl; The tigers roar. The voices of Nature and One hundred springs, all Celebrate the coming of the Fall. Abruptly the tune transforms Into the drum-song of Yuyang. Yellow clouds hang lonely, Darkened is the sun whits. One more turn, one seems to hear Spring in the Willow. A thousand blooms enlighten the sight In the Royal Park. On this eve of New Year, The great hall with candles glowing in display, For drinking, a goblet of mellow wine, For music are these songs divine. |
| 日譯： | 暫無日譯內容 |