<Header>
<Author: 白居易>
<Title: 琵琶行>
<Format: 七言古詩>
<Year: 1987>
<BookName: 300 Tang Poems: A New Translation>
<Translator: 許淵冲, 陸佩弦, 吳鈞陶>
<TranslatedTitle: Song of a Pipa Player>
<BookPage: 292-296>
<UsedPage: 5>
<Feature: 4>
<End Header>
<Poem>
潯陽江頭夜送客，楓葉荻花秋瑟瑟。
主人下馬客在船，舉酒欲飲無管絃。
醉不成歡慘將別，別時茫茫江浸月。
忽聞水上琵琶聲，主人忘歸客不發。
尋聲闇問彈者誰，琵琶聲停欲語遲。
移船相近邀相見，添酒回燈重開宴。
千呼萬喚始出來，猶抱琵琶半遮面。
轉軸撥絃三兩聲，未成曲調先有情。
絃絃掩抑聲聲思，似訴平生不得志。
低眉信手續續彈，說盡心中無限事。
輕攏慢撚抹復挑，初為霓裳後綠腰。
大絃嘈嘈如急雨，小絃切切如私語。
嘈嘈切切錯雜彈，大珠小珠落玉盤。
間關鶯語花底滑，幽咽泉流冰下難。
冰泉冷澀絃凝絕，凝絕不通聲暫歇。
別有幽愁闇恨生，此時無聲勝有聲。
銀瓶乍破水漿迸，鐵騎突出刀槍鳴。
曲終收撥當心畫，四絃一聲如裂帛。
東船西舫悄無言，唯見江心秋月白。
沉吟放撥插絃中，整頓衣裳起斂容。
自言本是京城女，家在蝦蟆陵下住。
十三學得琵琶成，名屬教坊第一部。
曲罷常教善才服，妝成每被秋娘妒。
五陵年少爭纏頭，一曲紅綃不知數。
鈿頭銀篦擊節碎，血色羅裙翻酒汙。
今年歡笑復明年，秋月春風等閒度。
弟走從軍阿姨死，暮去朝來顏色故。
門前冷落車馬稀，老大嫁作商人婦。
商人重利輕別離，前月浮梁買茶去。
去來江口守空船，繞船月明江水寒。
夜深忽夢少年事，夢啼妝淚紅闌幹。
我聞琵琶已歎息，又聞此語重唧唧。
同是天涯淪落人，相逢何必曾相識。
我從去年辭帝京，謫居臥病潯陽城。
潯陽地僻無音樂，終歲不聞絲竹聲。
住近湓江地低溼，黃蘆苦竹繞宅生。
其間旦暮聞何物，杜鵑啼血猿哀鳴。
春江花朝秋月夜，往往取酒還獨傾。
豈無山歌與村笛，嘔啞嘲哳難為聽。
今夜聞君琵琶語，如聽仙樂耳暫明。
莫辭更坐彈一曲，為君翻作琵琶行。
感我此言良久立，卻坐促絃絃轉急。
淒淒不似向前聲，滿座重聞皆掩泣。
座中泣下誰最多？江州司馬青衫濕。
<End Poem>
<Translation>
One night by riverside I bade a friend goodbye,
In maple leaves and rushes autumn seemed to sigh.
I, the host, dismounted and saw the guest in the boat,
We wished to drink but there was no music afloat.
Without flute-songs we drank our cups with heavy heart,
The moonbeams blent with water when we were to part.
Suddenly o'er the stream we heard a pipa sound,
I forgot to go home and the guest stood spell-bound.
We followed where the music led to find the player,
But heard the pipa stop and no music in the air.
We moved our boat near the musician's to invite
Her to drink at our feast replenished by lamplight.
We urged her time and again to appear until
She came, half-hiding her face behind a pipa still.
She turned the pegs and tested twice or thrice each string.
Before a tune was played we heard her feelings sing.
Then note on note she struck with pathos deep and strong,
It seemed to say she'd missed her dreams all her life long.
Head bent, she played with unpremeditated art
On and on to pour out her overflowing heart.
She lightly plucked, slowly stroked and twanged loud
The song of "Green Waist" after that of "Rainbow Cloud".
The thick strings loudly thrummed like the pattering rain;
The fine strings softly tinkled in a murmuring strain.
When loud and soft notes mingling were together played,
'Twas like large and small pearls dropping on a plate of jade.
Now liquid like orioles warbling in flowery land,
Then sobbing like a stream running along the sand.
But the stream seemed so cold as to congeal the string
And from congealed strings no more sound was heard to ring.
Still we heard hidden grief and vague regret concealed,
Then music expressed far less than silence revealed.
Suddenly we heard water burst a silver jar
And the clash of spears and sabres come from afar.
She made a central sweep when the music was ending,
The four strings made one sound, as of silk one is rending,
There was silence in the east boat and in the west,
We saw but autumn moon white in the river's breast.
And mutely she slid the plectrum between the strings,
Smoothed out her dress and rose with a composed mien.
"I have spent in the Capital my early springs,
Where at the foot of Mount of Toads my home had been.
At thirteen I learned on the pipa how to play,
And my name was among the primas of the day.
My skill the admiration of the masters won,
And my beauty was envied by desert'd fair one.
The gallant young men vied to shower gifts on me,
One tune played, countless silk rolls were given with glee.
Beating time, I let silver comb and pin drop down,
And spilt-out wine oft stained my blood-red silken gown.
From year to year I laughed my joyous life away
On moonlit autumn night or windy vernal day.
My younger brother left for war, and died my maid,
Days passed; nights came, and my beauty began to fade.
Fewer and fewer were cabs and steeds at my door,
I married a smug merchant when my prime was o'er.
The merchant cared for money much more than for me,
One month ago he went away to purchase tea,
Leaving his poor wife alone in an empty boat,
So, shrouded in moonlight, on cold river I float.
Deep in the night I dreamed of happy bygone years
And woke to find my rouged face criss-crossed with tears."
Listening to her sad music, I sighed with pain;
Hearing her sad story, I sighed again and again.
"Both of us in misfortune go from shore to shore.
Meeting now, need we have known each other before?
I was banished from the capital last year
To live degraded and ill in this city here.
This city's too remote to know melodious song,
So I have never heard music all the year long.
I dwell by river-bank, on a low and damp ground,
In a house yellow reeds and stunt'd bamboos surround.
What is to be heard here from daybreak till night-fall
But gibbons' sad cry and cuckoo's home-going' call?
By blooming riverside and under autumn moon,
I've often taken wine up and drunk it alone.
Of course I've mountain songs and village pipes to hear,
But they are crude and strident and grate on the ear.
Listening to you playing on pipa tonight,
With your music divine e'en my hearing seems bright.
Will you please sit down and play for us one tune more?
I'll write for you an ode to the pipa I adore."
Moved by what I said, the player stood there for long,
Then sat down, tore at the strings and played another song.
So sad, so drear, so different, it moved us deep,
All those who heard it hid the face and began to weep.
Of all the company at table who wept most?
It was none other than the exiled blue-robed host.
<End Translation>