<Header>
<Author: 李賀>
<Title: 李憑箜篌引>
<Format: 格式不明>
<Year: 1947>
<BookName: THE WHITE PONY: An Anthology of Chinese Poetry from the Earliest Times to the Present Day, Newly Translated>
<Translator: Robert Payne>
<TranslatedTitle: TO THE HARP PLAYER>
<BookPage: 263-264>
<UsedPage: 2>
<Feature: 2, 4>
<End Header>
<Poem>
吳絲蜀桐張高秋，
空白凝雲頹不流。
江娥啼竹素女愁，
李憑中國彈箜篌。
崑山玉碎鳳皇呌，
芙蓉泣露香蘭笑。
十二門前融冷光，
二十三絲動紫皇。
女媧鍊石補天處，
石破天驚逗秋雨。
夢入坤山教神嫗，
老魚跳波瘦蛟舞。
吳質不眠倚桂樹，
露脚斜飛溼寒兔。
<End Poem>
<Translation>
On the taut silkspun strings of high autumn
Clouds resound against the empty mountains.
Like the daughters of Shao who wept among bamboos
$(Or like the sad white girl who plucked the strings,)$
So does Li P'ing play his harp through the country,
Clean as split jade, soft as the bluebird's song,
Sad as dew-drops on lotos-leaves, happy as fragrant orchids.
His song melts the ice on the twelve imperial gates.
His twenty-three strings move the heart of the purple-robed King.
Listen, from the stone-mended clifts of Heaven which the goddess restored.
The stone broke again, the sky shuddered, autumn rains fell,
But the harper walked in a dream to teach the old goddess on the mountain
Near the Abyss where ancient fish leap and gaunt dragons dance.
The unsleeping listener leaned on a cinnamon bough
And saw the feet of the dew climbing up the shivering Hare.
<End Translation>
<Formatted Translation>
On the taut silkspun strings of high autumn
Clouds resound against the empty mountains.
Like the daughters of Shao who wept among bamboos
$(Or like the sad white girl who plucked the strings,)$
So does Li P'ing play his harp through the country,
Clean as split jade, soft as the bluebird's song,
Sad as dew-drops on lotos-leaves, happy as fragrant orchids.
His song melts the ice on the twelve imperial gates.
His twenty-three strings move the heart of the purple-robed King.
Listen, from the stone-mended clifts of Heaven which the goddess restored.
The stone broke again, the sky shuddered, autumn rains fell,
But the harper walked in a dream to teach the old goddess on the mountain
Near the Abyss where ancient fish leap and gaunt dragons dance.
The unsleeping listener leaned on a cinnamon bough
And saw the feet of the dew climbing up the shivering Hare.
<End Formatted Translation>