Pipa Xing by Bai Juyi (Tang Dynasty)
Translated by Gan Siowck Lee (June 2009)
One autumn night to the riverside I went
To send off friends visiting from afar
Amidst the rustling of maple leaves
From my horse I dismounted
My guests already on the boat awaiting
We lifted our cups to drink
But with no music
There was little merriment
Parting of way imminent
A tinge of sadness crept in
When came the time to bid farewell
The white water full moon lit
Suddenly the sound of pipa drifted in
Our hearts leapt up with such joy
That I forgot to head home
And my guests would not depart
Tracing the music to a boat nearby
We enquired who the musician was
Immediately the music stopped
The pipa player hesitant to speak
We approached the boat
To invite the lady to come aboard
We replenished the wine
Lit our lamps
Re-set the table to resume drinking
Many a time we beckoned
Until she made her appearance
With the pipa in her arms
Her face was half hidden
Adjusting the pegs
The strings she tenderly caressed
And a couple of notes she plucked
Though not even a tune
Her mood was spoken
Then she began to play
Pressing the strings one by one
Thinking her thoughts note by note
Telling a story
Of sadness in life
Lowering her brows
She went on playing
Pouring forth all that's in her heart
The strings she tenderly plucked
To warm them up
Stroking with her thumb
Picking with her little finger
She played first the Nishang
Followed by the Liuyiao
The bold strings rattled like pattering rain
The fine ones hummed like soft whispers
Pattering and whispering
As pearls big and small
Frolicking on a jade platter
The beautiful pipa tune
Was like the song of oriole in the flowering
bush
And the tinkling spring nearing the end of
its journey
Then the pipa sound
Like spring water meeting the cold
Became hoarse and smooth no more
The strings froze
Like the flow of water interrupted
Momentarily the music stopped
It was then came the subtle sadness
And hidden bitterness
Though all soundless
Silence spoke much louder
Suddenly came another sound
Of water from a silver vase splashed
Or the armored horsemen’s clattering
spears and swords
Bringing the music to an end
She struck the pipa in its midst
And strumming the four strings in unison
Like ripping a silk curtain apart
To the east and west of the boat
Silence prevailed no words spoken
Only the reflection of autumn moon in the
water
Painting a sea of pale whiteness
The pipa playing has come to an end
The lady sighed
Placed the plectrum amidst the strings
Tidying her dress
She rose elegantly from her feet
She said
She was from the capital
Her family lived south of Xiamoling
She learnt to play the pipa at age thirteen
Was once the best in the Conservatory
Her pipa performance
Held fellow musicians in awe
When dressed and adorned
Her beauty the envy of Chiu Liang
All the young men of Wuling
From rich and high society
Clamored to lavish on her
Gold and many gifts
By singing a song
Many li of red silk would she gain
She would dance
Till her finest hair ornaments
Fell and broke on the ground
Her red dresses wine-stained
With all the entertaining
A life of merriment year after year
Aimlessly swept past the lovely days
Of autumn moon and spring breeze
Her younger brother
Left to join the army
Her aunt passed away
Time slipped by
Night went away
After morning came tomorrow
Her beauty faded day by day
Till on her front door silence descended
Horse carriages of guests came no more
Eventually lowering herself
A tea merchant she married
The merchant
Cared not about her
But the pursuit of wealth
Just last month he had left
To Fuliang to trade tea
Often he came and went
At the estuary she was left
On the boat all alone
Surrounded by moonlight
And the cold river water
In the deep of the night
She would dream of her youth
And past splendor
She would weep in her sleep
Till tears smudged her face
When I listened to her music
I sighed for her
Now hearing her sad story
My sighs doubled
Like you I am a forlorn soul
But now that we have met
Does it matter we never knew each other?
Since I left the capital city last year
Banished here to Xunyang City
Unwell and sick
In bed I often stay
Xunyang is remote
No music all year round
Not a note to be heard
From any musical piece
My abode by the river
Lying in place low and damp
Only yellow reed and bamboo all around
From morning till night
What is to be heard?
Only the tearful sound of cuckoo
And the sad squeal of primates
When spring arrives and the river
blossom-lined
Or when the bright moon lights up the
autumn night
All alone I would drink my wine
Isn’t there the singing of folk songs or
the sound of flutes?
But this kind of banal music
Like babies learning to speak
Or the chattering of noisy birds
Is quite jarring to my ears
Your pipa tunes tonight
Like heavenly music
Have awakened my ears
Please do not decline
Do sit down to play an encore
A pipa song I will write in return
To you I will dedicate
Moved by my words
For a long while in silence she stood
Then stepping back to sit down
She tightened the strings yet again to play
The music now filled with emotion
Was melancholic unlike earlier tunes
All in the audience
Upon hearing the tune
Covered their faces to weep
Who shed the most tear amongst all?
Sima of Jiangjou it must be
(referring to the poet himself)
His blue garment
Wet by many tears
(The poet empathized with the forlorn lady whose sadness was reflected by her pipa tunes. The poet himself was demoted and banished to Xunyang, a place far away from the capital city of Chang An, present day Xi’an.)
Why did I choose to translate this particular poem?
This is a beautiful poem written by Bai Juyi, one of the famous poets of the Tang Dynasty. He was inspired to write this poem after his chance encounter with a lady pipa player.
Why did I choose to translate this poem? It's a long story. A few years ago, I saw a beautiful painting hanging in the studio of my art teacher who taught me Chinese brush painting. I fell in love with it instantly – yes, love at first sight! -- and decided to buy it there and then. This painting was done by an artist in China, who was inspired to paint this picture one summer night, after he read the Pipa Xing. As you can see from the painting, he is also an excellent calligrapher. (See photo on the right. Click on it and zoom in to see a bigger picture.) This perfect combination of picture and calligraphy epitomises the art of Chinese painting.
This painting has been taking pride of place in my living room. It's a wonderful conversation piece whenever friends come to visit me. Over time, I got tired of explaining the painting and the poem to my friends who do not read Chinese. So, I finally decided to translate it, and place a copy of it on the coffee table. After their visit, most of my friends would leave my house with the translation in hand. BTW, if my friends appreciate Chinese music, I would also take out my pipa music CD and play for them the piece entitled "Moonlit Night on Xunyang". I was told that the composer was inspired to write this piece of music after reading Pipa Xing. Whoa! This poem has inspired people to paint, write, compose music and even do translation! :-)
So far, my artsy friends were all entertained by this combination of pipa music, painting and poem, even though most of them don't even know a single word of Chinese! It is because of this that I decided to share this translation with Anglophone friends around the world. Hopefully, they will learn to appreciate beautiful Tang poems.
Here's the original poem in Chinese:
琵琶行 (Pipa Xing)
白居易(公元772-846)
元和十年,余左迁九江郡司马。明年秋，送客湓浦口， 闻舟中夜弹琵琶者。听其音，铮铮然有京都声。问其人，本长安倡女， 尝学琶琵于穆曹二善才。年长色衰，委身为贾人妇。遂令酒使快弹数曲。 曲罢悯然，自叙少小时欢乐事，今漂沦憔悴，转徒于江湖间余出官二年，恬然自安， 感斯人言，是夕始觉有迁谪意。因为长句歌以赠之，凡六百一十六言。命曰《琵琶行》。
浔阳江头夜送客，枫叶荻花秋瑟瑟。
主人下马客在船，举酒欲饮无管弦。
醉不成欢惨将别，别时茫茫江浸月。
忽闻水上琵琶声，主人忘归客不发。
寻声暗问弹者谁，琵琶声停欲语迟。
移船相近邀相见，添酒回灯重开宴。
千呼万唤始出来，犹抱琵琶半遮面。
转轴拨弦三两声，未成曲调先有情。
弦弦掩抑声声思，似诉平生不得志。
低眉信手续续弹，说尽心中无限事。
轻拢慢撚抹复挑，初为《霓裳》后《六幺》。
大弦嘈嘈如急雨，小弦切切如私语。
嘈嘈切切错杂弹，大珠小珠落玉盘。
间关莺语花底滑，幽咽泉流冰下难。
冰泉冷涩弦凝绝，凝绝不通声渐歇。
别有幽愁暗恨生，此时无声胜有声。
银瓶乍破水浆迸，铁骑突出刀枪鸣。
曲终收拨当心画，四弦一声如裂帛。
东船西舫悄无言，唯见江心秋月白。
沉吟放拨插弦中，整顿衣裳起敛容。
自言本是京城女，家在虾蟆陵下住。
十三学得琵琶成，名属教坊第一部。
曲罢躺撇欧背擅勘磺锬锒省?
五陵年少争缠头，一曲红绡不知数。
钿头云篦击节碎，血色罗裙翻酒污。
今年欢笑复明年，秋月春风等闲度。
弟走从军阿姨死，暮去朝来颜色故。
门前冷落车马稀，老大嫁作商人妇。
商人重利轻别离，前月浮梁买茶去。
去来江口守空船，绕船月明江水寒。
夜深忽梦少年事，梦啼妆泪红阑干。
我闻琵琶已叹息，又闻此语重唧唧。
同是天涯沦落人，相逢何必曾相识！
我从去年辞帝京，谪居卧病浔阳城。
浔阳地僻无音乐，终岁不闻丝竹声。
住近湓江地低湿，黄芦苦竹绕宅生。
其间旦暮闻何物，杜鹃啼血猿哀鸣。
春江花朝秋月夜，往往取酒还独倾。
岂无山歌与村笛，呕哑嘲哳难为听。
今夜闻君琵琶语，如听仙乐耳暂明。
莫辞更坐弹一曲，为君翻作琵琶行。
感我此言良久立，却坐促弦弦转急。
凄凄不似向前声，满座重闻皆掩泣。
座中泣下谁最多？江州司马青衫湿。
I hope my English translation has done justice to this beautiful poem! :-)
