<Header>
<Author: 李白>
<Title: 聽蜀僧濬彈琴>
<Format: 五言律詩>
<Year: 1944>
<BookName: A FURTHER SELECTION FROM THE THREE HUNDRED POEMS OF THE T'ANG DYNASTY>
<Translator: SOAME JENYNS>
<TranslatedTitle: Listening in Szechwan to the monk Chün playing on a Zither>
<BookPage: 59>
<UsedPage: 1>
<Feature: 1, 4>
<End Header>
<Poem>
蜀僧抱綠綺，
西下峨眉峰。
爲我一揮手，
如聽萬壑松。
客心洗流水，
餘響入霜鐘。
不覺碧山暮，
秋雲暗幾重。
<End Poem>
<Translation>
IN Szechwan $((I met))$ a monk clasping a zither in a green brocaded cover
Descending the west side of Omei Shan.
When he plucked the strings for me, I listened to the sighing of ten thousand pines in mountain valleys;
My heart was cleansed as with flowing water,
The scattering echoes mingled with the hoar-frost bells.
And I did not perceive that the green hills had grown grey
Nor that autumn clouds had darkened fold upon fold of the hills.
<End Translation>
<Formatted Translation>
IN Szechwan $((I met))$ a monk clasping a zither in a green brocaded cover
Descending the west side of Omei Shan.
When he plucked the strings for me,
I listened to the sighing of ten thousand pines in mountain valleys;
My heart was cleansed as with flowing water,
The scattering echoes mingled with the hoar-frost bells.
And I did not perceive that the green hills had grown grey
Nor that autumn clouds had darkened fold upon fold of the hills.
<End Formatted Translation>