Poetry and ancient poetry about sound

1. Poems describing sounds 1 Bai Juyi: pipa-pipa-pipa.

Big strings hum like rain, and small strings whisper like secrets.

Humming, whispering-and then mixing together, like pouring large and small pearls into a plate of jade.

Guan Yingying's ass was slippery when she spoke, and we heard a stream sobbing painfully on the beach.

By checking its cold touch, this string seems to be broken, as if it can't pass; And notes, fade away.

The depth of sadness and the hiding of sadness are more told in silence than in voice.

A silver vase suddenly burst, pouring out a stream of water, jumping out of the conflict and blow between armored horses and weapons.

Before she put down the pick, her stroke was over, and all four strings made a sound, just like tearing silk.

2 Lu Xun has a poem "Giving Gifts" (the second poem): "The Qin female lets jade kites fly, and Liang Chen warms the night wind, and suddenly the ice strings are ringing, and the stars are ringing all over the sky."

3 guzheng poems

I couldn't stop singing last night.

It's already midnight.

Stand up and walk around the steps alone.

When people are quiet, the moon is bright outside the curtain.

Whitehead is fame.

Old mountain pine and bamboo are old, which hinders the return journey.

I want to talk to Yao Qin.

There are few confidants, who will listen to the broken string?

Xiao Zhongshan of Yue Fei

Zheng mingzhu,

Shining on the golden harp,

In order to attract Zhou Yu's keen eyes,

She sometimes touches the wrong note.

Li Duan listened to zheng.

Under the north window of Guqin,

The night sounds clear and sad.

High chords break easily,

A broken heart cannot bend the road.

Xiaogang is playing guzheng.

There is a divine comedy upstairs,

I want to break my string and urge it again and again.

Jiang Fei listened to the fog and rain,

White waves are flying, and jade is floating.

Call me double phoenix trough,

Give it to orphans in the Three Gorges.

Playing Fang Chundiao with Jun,

Pick up firewood and frost branches.

Su Shi's Guzheng

Qin Zheng speaks out of tune,

Yuzhu sings Qingqu,

The string is high and broken,

The sound continues with the beautiful fingers.

I heard voices around the beam,

Know Yan Ruyu better.

Shen Yue's Ode to Zheng

Beauty is the window of sunshine,

String players play the Zheng in sign language.

The spring breeze blew off the king's ears,

This song is Ascension to Heaven.

Li Bai's Spring Journey

When you are in a remote place, Qin Zheng will reappear.

Zhang Jiuling listened to Zheng.

The bright moon shines on people in ancient times, and the curtain opens to play jade Zheng.

Chang Jian's "Playing the Zheng at Night in Tall Buildings"

Bao Zheng's cymbals are overcast and dusty, and Zhang Jin draws still.

Liao Rong's "Quit the Palace Prostitute"

Why Zheng Qing lingered and Lv Yun was hanged?

Li Bai is visiting prostitutes in Nanting, Handan.

Where to mourn Zheng, follow the urgent principle, and cherry blossoms hang down Yongxiang Yangya.

Four Untitled Poems by Li Shangyin

There are still cymbals and kites behind the curtain. It's too late to see them. I don't know.

Zheng Song, a Yao Beauty after the Banquet by Lu Lun.

When a woman is in trouble, her heart is cold.

Fifty Poems of Li Shangyin's "Send the General to Que"

Guzheng plays oriental music, and Qin Xian plays western music.

Li Bai's "Antique" 54

It's breezy in Wansongting, so listen to a piano.

Liu Yuxi's "Hurt Qin Sisters"

The long night is full of affectionate silver, guarding the empty room with fear and jealousy, and can't bear to sleep.

Yu Ya's Autumn Night

Nearly 20 poems by Bai Juyi mentioned Zheng. The poem "Zheng" describes a female pianist's exquisite performance: "The clouds are blue and white, the autumn water cuts off the eyes, and the onions peel off the fingers". Zhang Gui wrote two sentences in "Zheng": "Blue pillars are born in the night wind, and red strings are swallowed by spring water", describing the characteristics of the sound of the Zheng like water. What's more, "Listening to Zheng" and "Jin" in the Romance of the Three Kingdoms written by Li Duan all shine on the golden harp. If you want to take care of her, she touches a wrong sound from time to time. "This poem shows people Zhou Yu's mastery of temperament skills.

The bright moon shines on people, and the curtain opens to play jade Zheng.

The mountain is high and the ape is in a hurry, and the sky is quiet and the geese are singing.

The curvature is still unfinished, and the east wind and summer are half-dead.

Jin Su's guzheng makes a beautiful sound, and the beauty of guzheng sits in front of the jade house.

Trying to please Zhou Lang as much as possible, you see she deliberately dialed the wrong string.

The string urges the column to listen, and the sorrow and resentment of the Qin people are infinite.

It's like chasing the spring breeze to know Liuzhou, just like knowing flowers with birds.

The timbre of guzheng is so elegant, it is the most fashionable piece, exquisite and ingenious.

In the bright moon with purple sleeves and red strings,

Self-playing, self-feeling, dark, low capacity.

Chord coagulation refers to the cessation of pharyngeal sounds,

Don't be sentimental.

The flag of sunset flutters in A?vagho?a (Du Fu went to the fortress).

Big strings hum like rain, and small strings whisper like secrets. Bai Juyi's Pipa Journey

Humming, whispering-and then mixing together, like pouring large and small pearls into a plate of jade. Bai Juyi's Pipa Journey

2. Poems about sound are described by sound: cicadas and Bai Juyi in the early Tang Dynasty-on the seventh day of June, cicadas in the river began to sing.

In the deep leaves of heather, there are two or three sounds at dusk. Pipa goes hand in hand with Tang Bai Juyi-the big strings hum like rain, and the small strings whisper like a secret.

Humming, whispering-and then mixing together, like pouring large and small pearls into a plate of jade. Between Guan Ying's words, the bottom of the flower is slippery, so you can't swallow the spring scenery and flow under the ice.

The ice spring is cold and astringent, and the strings condense, and the condensation will never stop. The depth of sadness and the hiding of sadness are more told in silence than in voice.

A silver vase suddenly burst, pouring out a stream of water, jumping out of the conflict and blow between armored horses and weapons. Before she put down the pick, her stroke was over, and all four strings made a sound, just like tearing silk.

The rooster crows at dawn, Tang-at dawn, the rooster crows in the forest and falls into the frog palace with a sound. Two calls to break the pillow dream, three pedestrians smoke sea red.

Chicken Tang Cui Dao Rong-windy and rainy night in the mountains, I want to crow before dawn. Give Tang Geng a cold snap-who did it? It rang long ago and repeatedly covered the steps.

Playing the flute, Du Fu in the Tang Dynasty-playing the flute in autumn is clear, the wind and the moon are clear, and making heartbroken sounds skillfully. Li Bai, the Tang Dynasty flute in Los Angeles on a spring night-his flute flies in the dark, and the spring breeze fills Los Angeles.

Smell the flute sound of the Tang Dynasty, Rong Yu-I miss it in the dead of night, and the flute sound is even sadder. Bai Juyi-Shu Mu Tong Gu, Chu Si Qing Yun.

Play slowly, play slowly, a dozen times in the middle of the night. In the wind, the Qin and Lu Tong in the Tang Dynasty-thirteen emblems, five tones and six rhythms, dragons singing and humming and thinking.

Listen to the piano and Meng Jiao in Tang Dynasty —— Whispering the rain and turning oak leaves. Tang Huangfu Ran, a sad ape endowed with Tao, went deep into the Woods and entered the lonely city.

Wuxia listened to the howling of the no.1 ape-Bajiang ape, and it was painful and rang into the passenger ship. Lonely pillow breaks dreams, three sounds follow the breeze.

There is a voice description: Bai Juyi in the early Tang Dynasty-on the seventh day of June, cicadas in the river began to sing. In the deep leaves of heather, there are two or three sounds at dusk.

Pipa goes hand in hand with Tang Bai Juyi-the big strings hum like rain, and the small strings whisper like a secret. Humming, whispering-and then mixing together, like pouring large and small pearls into a plate of jade.

Between Guan Ying's words, the bottom of the flower is slippery, so you can't swallow the spring scenery and flow under the ice. The ice spring is cold and astringent, and the strings condense, and the condensation will never stop.

The depth of sadness and the hiding of sadness are more told in silence than in voice. A silver vase suddenly burst, pouring out a stream of water, jumping out of the conflict and blow between armored horses and weapons.

Before she put down the pick, her stroke was over, and all four strings made a sound, just like tearing silk. The rooster crows at dawn, Tang-at dawn, the rooster crows in the forest and falls into the frog palace with a sound.

Two calls to break the pillow dream, three pedestrians smoke sea red. Chicken Tang Cui Dao Rong-windy and rainy night in the mountains, I want to crow before dawn.

Give Tang Geng a cold snap-who did it? It rang long ago and repeatedly covered the steps. Playing the flute, Du Fu in the Tang Dynasty-playing the flute in autumn is clear, the wind and the moon are clear, and making heartbroken sounds skillfully.

Li Bai, the Tang Dynasty flute in Los Angeles on a spring night-his flute flies in the dark, and the spring breeze fills Los Angeles. Smell the flute sound of the Tang Dynasty, Rong Yu-I miss it in the dead of night, and the flute sound is even sadder.

Bai Juyi-Shu, of course, Chusi has a clear rhyme. Play slowly, play slowly, a dozen times in the middle of the night.

In the wind, the Qin and Lu Tong in the Tang Dynasty-thirteen emblems, five tones and six rhythms, dragons singing and humming and thinking. Listen to the piano and Meng Jiao in Tang Dynasty —— Whispering the rain and turning oak leaves.

Tang Huangfu Ran, a sad ape endowed with Tao, went deep into the Woods and entered the lonely city. Wuxia listened to the howling of the no.1 ape-Bajiang ape, and it was painful and rang into the passenger ship.

Lonely pillow breaks dreams, three sounds follow the breeze. Wei Wuying, who lives in Chuzhou, lives by a secluded grass stream, and orioles sing in the trees.

The spring tide brought the rain late and urgent, and there was no boat on the wild crossing.

3. Describe an ancient poem with sound 1) Lu You (Southern Song Dynasty), Xiao Shanheng of Hongqiao Shi Mei, and Jiang Chunshui Sheng of Baitafan.

The fragrance of flowers makes people know that it is suddenly warm, and the sound of magpies wearing trees makes people happy. The wine in the workshop is still drunk, and the mud in Master Yuan is still old.

I like to be granted full office in advance, year after year, and no official knocks on Chai Jing. 2) "Sleeping at Maple Bridge at Night" (Tang) On a frosty night, Jiang Feng sleeps in the fire.

In the lonely Hanshan Temple outside Suzhou, the bell that rang in the middle of the night reached the passenger ship. 3) "Early Cicada" Bai Juyi (Tang) On the seventh day of June, the cicadas in Jiangtou sang.

In the deep leaves of heather, there are two or three sounds at dusk. 4) "Preface to Pipa" Bai Juyi (Tang) sang the big strings like rain, and the small strings whispered like a secret.

Humming, whispering-and then mixing together, like pouring large and small pearls into a plate of jade. Between Guan Ying's words, the bottom of the flower is slippery, so you can't swallow the spring scenery and flow under the ice.

The ice spring is cold and astringent, and the strings condense, and the condensation will never stop. The depth of sadness and the hiding of sadness are more told in silence than in voice.

A silver vase suddenly burst, pouring out a stream of water, jumping out of the conflict and blow between armored horses and weapons. Before she put down the pick, her stroke was over, and all four strings made a sound, just like tearing silk.

5) "Cockcrow" (Tang) At dawn, a rooster crowed in the forest and fell into the frog palace. Two calls to break the pillow dream, three pedestrians smoke sea red.

There were many poems describing sounds in ancient times. Bai Juyi's Pipa Trip: "The big strings sound like rain, and the strings are as deep as croons." Original poem: At that night, I saw my guests off on Xunyang River, and maple leaves and rushes rustled in autumn.

I, the host, have dismounted, my guest has boarded his boat, and we raise our cups, hoping to drink-but, alas, there is no music. Although we drank a lot of wine, we were not happy. When we were leaving each other, the river mysteriously widened in the direction of the full moon.

We heard a sudden sound, a guitar crossed the water, the host forgot to go home and the guests left. We followed the melody, asked the player's name, and the voice was interrupted ... and then she reluctantly answered.

We moved the boat closer to hers, invited her to join us, and summoned more wine and lanterns to start our party again. However, before she came to us, we called a thousand times and urged her for a thousand times, but she still hid half of her face behind her guitar from us.

... she turned the tuning pin and tested several strings, and even before she played, we could feel her feelings. Every string is a kind of meditation, and every note is a kind of deep thinking, as if she were telling us the pain of her life.

She frowned and bent her fingers, then started her music and talked about endless things in your heart. Take your time, first the air in the rainbow skirt, then the six small ones.

Big strings hum like rain, and small strings whisper like secrets. Humming, whispering-and then mixing together, like pouring large and small pearls into a plate of jade.

Between Guan Ying's words, the bottom of the flower is slippery, and spring water flows along the beach. By checking its cold touch, the string seems to be broken, which makes us never stop.

The depth of sadness and the hiding of sadness are more told in silence than in voice. A silver vase suddenly burst, pouring out a stream of water, jumping out of the conflict and blow between armored horses and weapons.

Before she put down the pick, her stroke was over, and all four strings made a sound, just like tearing silk. The east ship was silent, and the west ship was silent. We saw the white autumn moon entering the river.

Put it on the strings thoughtfully, straighten clothes and gather customers. Tell us how she spent her girlhood in the capital and lived in her parents' house in Toad Hill.

She mastered the guitar at the age of thirteen, and her name ranked first in the list of musicians. Song often teaches excellent talents, and her beauty is the envy of all the leading dancers.

How did the aristocratic youths in Wuling compete generously? Countless red silks were given to a song. And the blood color of the skirt was stained by wine, China.

Season after season, joy followed, and neither the autumn moon nor the spring breeze attracted her attention. My brother joined the army and my aunt died. Night after night passed and her beauty disappeared.

There were fewer and fewer cars and horses in front of the door, and finally she married herself to a businessman. Who, first of all, stole money, accidentally left her and went to Fuliang to buy tea a month ago.

Go to Jiangkou to watch the boat in the air, and the moon sails around the boat in cold water. Sometimes in the middle of the night, she dreams of her victory and is awakened from her dream by her hot tears.

Her first guitar note made me sigh. Now, after listening to her story, I feel even sadder. We were all unhappy until the end of the day, when we met. We understand. What is the relationship between acquaintances? .

A year ago, I left the capital and came here. Now I am a sick Jiujiang exile. Jiujiang is so far away that I haven't heard music, neither strings nor bamboo sounds for a whole year.

I live in a small town near the river, which is low and humid. Huang Lu bitter bamboo is born around the house. What can you hear here in the morning and evening? The cuckoo's bleeding cry, the ape's sobbing.

I often pick up the wine and drink it alone in the morning of spring with flowers and the night of autumn with moonlight shining. Of course, there are folk songs and bagpipes in the village, which are hard to hear.

Tonight, when I heard you playing the guitar, I felt that my hearing was illuminated by wonderful music. Don't leave us. Come, sit down. Play it for us again. I will write a Long song about guitar. ..

... she was moved by my words, stood there for a while, and then sat down to play her strings-they sounded even sadder. Although the tune was different from what she had played before, all the listeners covered their faces.

But which of them cried the most? , this Jiujiang officer. My blue sleeves are wet. The apes on both sides of the strait can't stop crying, and the canoe is raining (ape) outside the curtain of Li Bai, and the spring scenery is fading (rain). Li listens to the leaves beating in the forest, why not sing and go (rain)? Su Dongpo dropped the flag of sunshine in A?vagho?a, and the wind was rustling (after Du Fu left).

5. Ancient poetry expresses the sound of Bai Juyi, an early cicada in the Tang Dynasty-on the seventh day of June, cicadas in the river began to sing. In the leaves of heather, dusk rang two or three times. Pipa and Bai Juyi went hand in hand in the Tang Dynasty-the big strings were like rain, and the small strings were like whispers-and then blended with each other, pouring on a plate of jade like pearls of all sizes. Guan ying's flower bottom is slippery, and it is difficult to flow under the ice. The ice spring is cold and astringent, and the condensation never stops. In the depth of sadness and the hiding of sadness, silence speaks louder than sound. A silver vase suddenly burst, pouring out a stream of water, jumping out of the conflict and blow between armored horses and weapons. Before she put down the pick, her blow ended, and all four strings made a sound, like tearing silk. Cockcrow Song Tang Chen Tao-Cockcrow in the forest at dawn, frog palace was shocked. Sleeping dreams are shattered twice, and pedestrians smoke three times. Tang Cui Daorong, a chicken, wants to crow at dawn on a dark windy and rainy night in the mountains. Who made it cold and bitter?

6. What are the poems about sound? "Early Cicada" Tang Juyi began to sing on the seventh day of June.

In the deep leaves of heather, there are two or three sounds at dusk. "Chicken Song" Tang's chickens crowed in the forest at dawn and fell into the frog palace with a shock.

Two calls to break the pillow dream, three pedestrians smoke sea red. Cui Daorong bought the morning chicken of the Tang Dynasty, and he often sang it without waiting.

It's dark and rainy in the mountains, and I want to cry near dawn. "Playing the flute" year: Tang Author: Du Fu playing the flute in autumn is crisp, the mountains are bright and the moon is bright, who skillfully makes heartbroken sounds.

The wind is drifting with the wind, and the moon is bright near Guanshan. Hu rode northbound in the middle of the night, and Wuling wanted to go southbound.

Today, the old garden willow falls, why worry about the middle song? "Whispering flute in the spring night in Los Angeles/Whispering flute in the spring night in Luoyang" Author: Li Bai (in the Tang Dynasty), his Yu Di was secretly released and scattered in the spring breeze of full Los Angeles.

In this nocturne, the willow is broken, and no one can afford to be homesick. "Listening to the Qin" Time: Tang Author: Meng Jiao autumn rain rustling, oak leaves roaring sound.

The moon sets in the west and there are three or four stars. The piano was suddenly tuned to the front stream, and the forest was cold.

I can't lie on my pillow when I hear the sound of the bomb. Return the candle, straighten the hairpin, wash the spring and set up the atrium.

Step by step, the teeth are deep, and the manners are Zen. The breeze blows on the skirt, and I can recognize the voice in the palace.

After studying Taoism for 30 years, you may worry about life and death. Smell the bullets all night and do your best.

"Martial Arts Listening to Apes" The ape of Bajiang screamed sadly and rang into the passenger ship. Lonely pillow breaks dreams, three sounds follow the breeze.

Even clouds and waves, fog and rain. Martial arts are far from home, and it is unbearable to hurt the soul.

7. As for the ancient poems about sound, cicada is dry, the forest is quiet, Tonamiyama is quieter, "Pipa travels", she frowned and flexed her fingers, and then started her music, letting her heart share everything with us bit by bit.

She brushed the strings, slowly twisted, swept and plucked, first the air in the rainbow skirt, then the six small ones. Big strings hum like rain, and small strings whisper like secrets.

Humming, whispering-and then mixing together, like pouring large and small pearls into a plate of jade. Between Guan Ying's words, the bottom of the flower is slippery, under the ice, it is difficult to swallow and flow.

The ice spring is cold and astringent, as if it can't pass; And notes, fade away. The depth of sadness and the hiding of sadness are more told in silence than in voice.

A silver vase suddenly burst, pouring out a stream of water, jumping out of the conflict and blow between armored horses and weapons. Pay attention to your stroke, all four strings make a sound, just like tearing silk.

[Whispering flute in Los Angeles on a spring night] The Rain Flute by Tang Libai flies in the dark, and the spring breeze permeates Los Angeles ... I heard "folding willow" in this nocturne, who can't stand homesickness! Li Wei: Listening to An Wanshan's "Blowing the Bamboo Song" and its music was first introduced from Persia.

It spread to the Han Dynasty and became a novel, and Aw Hoe in Liangzhou was played by me. The listeners at the seat are all sighing, and the homesick tourists weep.

People only know how to listen to music but not appreciate it. Music is like walking alone in a storm. Withered old Bai Han, there are nine little phoenixes, singing to each other.

It's like a dragon singing and a tiger roaring and generate at the same time, and it's like the autumn sound of spring in autumn. Suddenly it turned into a small, tragic, sudden dark cloud that turned the sky from flying to flying.

The next change is as lively and cheerful as Yang Liuzhi, as if I saw the flowers in the garden among the flowers. It is the gaotang candle that we lit on this cold night. Every glass of wine is accompanied by another round of music. The five strings of Tang Wangjia are full of emotion, and the twiddle is full of life.

I only admire the satrap of the romantic field, and the little golden bells ringing in my ears. Five-string drama-evil Zheng Shengya is also a five-string drama, and the listener is very attentive.

Zhao Bi knows that you are deeply in love, and the five strings are tuned for you. One or two clues, the autumn wind blows away and the rhyme falls.

Three or four strings ring, and the night crane records the sound in the cage. The fifth chord is the most depressing, and the water in Gansu is too cold to swallow.

Five strings are played in parallel for your audition, which is sad and sad. Strike the coral once or twice, and pour the jade plate with ice.

Iron kills, ice scares. The sound of killing hurts the skin, the blood, and the cold makes people ache all over.

At the end of the song, I want to spend half a day, and I sit silently. There is a distant scholar in the seat, and the voice of chirp is endless.

I sighed that I heard it at the beginning of this day, and I knew that I had been lonely all my life. I only worry about what will happen to Zhao, but there is no such sound of silos in the world.

People far away, it is beautiful for you to listen to the letter of five strings, but I prefer to hear the beginning sound. What's the beginning sound? Zhu Xian Shuqing Temple Song.

Repeatedly lamenting a play, there are not many rare voices at the music festival. Harmony brings vitality, but it makes you feel calm.

Human feelings are more important today than in the past, and guqin also has strings that people don't care about. Most of them are from Zhao Biyi. Twenty-five strings are not as good as five strings.

[Gift Qing] Day after day, Du Fu's silk tube in Jincheng, Tang Dynasty, enters the river wind and clouds. This kind of music should only be in heaven, where can I hear it several times?

8. Poems describing sounds in ancient poems, Lu Xun's "Gift to the Person" (2) The female in the late Qin Dynasty tolerated the jade zither, and Chen Liang was enthusiastic about the night wind, but suddenly the ice string sounded like a falling star. Li Duantang's "Listening to the Zheng" sings Zheng Jinlizhu, which shines on a golden piano, attracting Zhou Yu's keen eyes and touching the wrong sound from time to time.

Playing the Zheng by Xiao Gang in the Southern Dynasty plucked the guqin under the north window, and it was sad at night. A high chord is easy to break, but a broken heart is hard to bend.

Su Shi's song "He Lv Playing the Zheng" was played many times upstairs, and he wanted to break the string and urged it again and again. Jiang Fei listened to the fog and rain, and the white waves tossed and turned.

Call me Shuangfengcao as an orphan of the Three Gorges. Ensemble in pure tune, pecking at wood and flying frost trees.

In Zheng Fu of the Southern Dynasties, there was a unique tune. Yuzhu sang a clear song, with a high chord and a broken tone, and the sound continued with the wonderful finger. Yan Ruyu's better understanding is to listen to the sound.

Li Baitang's "Journey in Spring" plays a beautiful woman in the window during the day and plays the sign language Zheng. The spring breeze blew down the king's ears, and this song is Ascension to Heaven.

[Tang] Li He Li Pingping led Shu Tong Zhang, and the empty mountain condensed the clouds. Jiang Yue wept for Motome's sadness, while Ping Li was playing China.

Kunshan jade broken Fengming, hibiscus crying, Xianglan laughing. The cold light melts in front of the twelve gates, and the twenty-three silk moves the purple emperor.

Nu Wa makes up the sky by refining stones, and the stones break the ground to stir up the autumn rain. Dream into the holy mountain to teach the gods, and the old fish dance with the waves.

Wu Mian leans against the laurel tree, showing his feet and flying obliquely to wet cold rabbits. Pipa, Bai Juyi, Tang I see guests off at Xunyang River, and maple leaves and rushes whisper in autumn.

I, the host, have dismounted, my guest has boarded his boat, and we raise our cups, hoping to drink-but, alas, there is no music. Although we drank a lot of wine, we were not happy. When we were leaving each other, the river mysteriously widened in the direction of the full moon.

We heard a sudden sound. A guitar flashed across the water. The host forgot to go home and the guests left. We followed the direction of the melody and asked the player's name, and the voice was interrupted ... and then she reluctantly answered.

We moved the boat closer to hers, invited her to join us, and summoned more wine and lanterns to start our party again. However, before she came to us, we called a thousand times and urged her for a thousand times, but she still hid half of her face behind her guitar from us.

... she turned the tuning pin and tested several strings, and even before she played, we could feel her feelings. Every string is a kind of meditation, and every note is a kind of deep thinking, as if she were telling us the pain of her life.

She frowned, bent her fingers, and then started her music, letting her heart share everything with us bit by bit. She brushes the strings, twists them slowly, sweeps them and plucks them, first "Nishang" and then "Six Yao".

Big strings hum like rain, and small strings whisper like secrets. Humming, whispering-and then mixing together, like pouring large and small pearls into a plate of jade.

Between Guan Ying's words, the bottom of the flower is slippery, so you can't swallow the spring scenery and flow under the ice. The ice spring is cold and astringent, and the strings condense, and the condensation will never stop.

The depth of sadness and the hiding of sadness are more told in silence than in voice. A silver vase suddenly burst, pouring out a stream of water, jumping out of the conflict and blow between armored horses and weapons.

Before she put down the pick, her stroke was over, and all four strings made a sound, just like tearing silk. The east ship was silent, and the west ship was silent. We saw the white autumn moon entering the river. )

This paragraph is about music. ) Putting meditation on the strings, she stood up and smoothed her clothes, serious and polite. Tell us how she spent her girlhood in the capital and lived in her parents' house in Toad Hill.

[Tomb of Frogs (Hama)] and mastered the guitar at the age of thirteen, and her name was recorded on the musician's class list. Her art even attracted the appreciation of experts, and her beauty attracted the envy of all major dancers.

How did the aristocratic youths in Wuling compete generously? Countless red silks were given to a song. The silver comb inlaid with shells was broken by her rhythm, and the bloody skirt was stained with wine.

Season after season, joy followed, and neither the autumn moon nor the spring breeze attracted her attention. Until her brother went to war, and then her aunt died, and the night passed, and the night came, and her beauty disappeared.

Lengma was at the door, so at last she gave her wife to a businessman. Who, first of all, stole money, accidentally left her and went to Fuliang to buy tea a month ago.

She has been taking care of an empty boat in the estuary, with no companions except the bright moon and cold water. Sometimes in the middle of the night, she dreams of her victory and is awakened from her dream by her hot tears.

Her first guitar note made me sigh. Now, after listening to her story, I feel even sadder. We were all unhappy until the end of the day, when we met. We understand. What is the relationship between acquaintances? ! A year ago, I left the capital and came here. Now I am a sick Jiujiang exile.

Jiujiang is so far away that I haven't heard music, neither strings nor bamboo sounds for a whole year. My residence is near the town by the river, low and humid, and the house is surrounded by bitter reeds and yellow rushes.

What can you hear here in the morning and evening? ? The cuckoo's bleeding cry, the ape's sobbing. I often pick up the wine and drink it alone in the morning of spring with flowers and the night of autumn with moonlight shining.

Of course, there are folk songs and bagpipes in the village, which are very ugly. Tonight, when I heard you playing the guitar, I felt that my hearing was illuminated by wonderful music.

Don't leave us. Come, sit down. Play it for us again. Translate the travel notes of pipa for you. ... she was moved by my words, stood there for a while, and then sat down to play her strings-they sounded even sadder.

Although the tune was different from what she had played before, all the listeners covered their faces. But which of them cried the most? ? This Jiujiang official. My blue sleeves are wet.