"The Wandering Erhu"

There is an elf, wandering like the water of three springs, as cold as the moon on a winter night; there is an elf, as melancholy as the drizzle in early summer, and as resentful as the osmanthus seeds in late autumn. ; There is an elf who is destined to wander forever. This elf is Erhu, Jiangnan, the wandering Erhu.

Mongolian yurts, roller coasters, and the prairie with wind-blown grass and low sight of cattle and sheep are destined to be the cradle of the morin-head fiddle. Red sorghum, Xintianyou, and the windy and dusty loess high slopes are born to be the world of suona. The south of the Yangtze River, with willow banks, awning boats, small bridges and flowing water surrounding people's houses, will always be the magnetic field of Erhu. The soil and water support the people, and the customs of the same place also nurture the growth of musical instruments. But we don't know whether Jiangnan chose the erhu or the erhu chose Jiangnan. We only know that such a choice requires a lot of thought and is difficult to determine.

In fact, the erhu is to Jiangnan, just like the apricot blossom spring rain is to Jiangnan, it is as poetic and long-lasting. Although in the mountains and rivers, we have only seen Zhong Ziqi's Jiaowei Qin, and by the Xunyang River, we have only held Bai Juyi's Pipa. Although in the many Tang poems, Song lyrics, Yuan music and Ming operas, it is difficult for us to Listening to the low cry of the Erhu, the feeling of caressing the Erhu is helpless, but who can say that with the Jiaowei Qin and the Pipa, the Erhu will not wander lonely in the south of the Yangtze River?

The golden powder of the Six Dynasties and the Qinhuai Palace of Wang Xiehou and Marquis have too many sensual dogs and horses, which are not the flowers blooming on the erhu strings; the Sanqiu osmanthus and the ten-mile lotus Qiantang have too much beauty and prosperity, that Nor is it the beating beat of the erhu’s bow. The towpath, awnings, terrace gates, porches, rain alleys, stone bridges, teahouses, and grain fields are destined to be the wandering erhu's journey. Wandering does not belong to scholars, poets, noble eunuchs. The wandering erhu is destined to be just a flower blooming in the joy of ordinary people and ordinary people, and a painting flowing in sorrow; the wandering erhu is born to be a prop for traffickers, merchants and actors when they are happy, and a support when they are down and out.

We really don’t know when the erhu started wandering in the south of the Yangtze River. We only know that when the watery moonlight soaked in the late autumn osmanthus, when the dense drizzle whirled the plantains by the river, when the sentimental When the late evening breeze blows at the Taimen Stone Bridge, when the scattered smoke from cooking smoke fills the countryside and grain fields, the erhu begins to wander in the south of the Yangtze River. When the wandering Erhu met that person by fate, its wanderings were condensed and gathered for no reason, and spread and amplified infinitely. The man named Blind Abing is like a wizard. When the Erhu meets him, he can no longer stop wandering.

The notes of "Two Springs Reflecting the Moon" are like the gurgling of spring eyes, and we know that the wandering one must be helpless; the tune of "Singing in the Sickness" is like tears slowly seeping out, and we know that What is wandering is clearly a kind of desolation; the beat of "Good Night" is like a thick cloud of longing, and we know that what is wandering is a kind of profound vicissitudes. That kind of wandering is no longer the wandering of the erhu or the wandering of music. That kind of wandering is the wandering of a soul and a land. That kind of wandering is the wandering of an era and a nation.

The wandering erhu will always give birth to many wandering hearts and encourage many wandering flowers. Blind A Bing is the ultimate. However, in the south of the Yangtze River, in the south of the Yangtze River with deep blue stone alleys and long shacks with green roofs and pink eaves, and in the countryside of the south of the Yangtze River with frogs and drums in the spring grass ponds and the sound of green grass in the chirping of orioles, it is similar to the erhu. But the wandering soul and life are not limited to Abing? In my hometown, Sun Wenming, a blind folk artist known as "A Bing's Second", is another gorgeous wandering flower. Sun Wenming, who lost his sight at the age of 4 and whose parents died when he was young, set out from his hometown of Cao'e River to wander south of the Yangtze River when he was 12 years old. His erhu sound resounded throughout most of the south of the Yangtze River. Although "Liubo Qu", "Sifang Qu", "Peace of Mind" and other erhu compositions that have participated in national music and dance performances have enabled him to move from a folk wandering artist to the lectern of teaching erhu in the Folk Music Department of Shanghai Conservatory of Music, But Sun Wenming, who had been wandering all his life, eventually died prematurely due to overwork and illness in his hometown of Fengxian, Shanghai. A gorgeous erhu flower, a flower of wandering, only bloomed for a short 34 years. From A Bing to Sun Wenming, to the many wandering souls who have perished in the Jiangnan shops and countryside, we have to sadly admit that among the Jiangnan silk and bamboo, the erhu may have the most tragic character. I don’t know whether this tragedy is due to the erhu’s destined wandering nature, or because of the sway of too many wandering souls.

Instrumental music is the spirit of a land and water, the blood of a charming style, and the soul of an era and a culture. Once upon a time, when the drumbeat of disco was like the foreign horseshoes beating the shops in Jiangnan, and when the dreamy chatter of the saxophone was like the west wind blowing from the east, it filled the countryside of Jiangnan. We almost never see the wandering erhu anymore, and we can no longer find those wandering erhus. As we were walking, we suddenly woke up. In fact, wandering is not only a kind of misery, hardship, vicissitudes and helplessness, but also a kind of endurance, tenacity, endeavor and resistance. Wandering is another vivid gesture of life, and freshness is The living gesture can never be dissolved.

"Thoughts on the Qin"

. After I played the first note in my life with this huqin, people said that I was a real harp lover.

I have been away from my hometown for more than ten years, but I always take her with me. Whenever the bright moon shines into my room, a bright and low-pitched piano sound echoes in my ears. At this time, she seemed to be running towards me along the path beside the pond from the thick silvery shade.

"Why did you come so early?" Xiaoqin asked.

“Didn’t you say that as soon as the moon rises above the treetops, you would come to the pond and learn to play the piano?” I said, holding up the huqin I borrowed from someone else.

She smiled, with two dimples showing on her lips as an answer.

So, we sat on the bank of the pond and looked at the Linglong Autumn Moon reflected in the water. I started teaching her how to play the piano. When I was tired, I put the huqin next to me and listened to the rising and falling sounds.

"Lisang, play me a piece of music." Xiaoqin begged me.

“Wouldn’t it be better to listen to the sounds of nature together?”

“We all have the instinct to return to nature. Don’t you think you should use the sound of the piano to cultivate and purify your body? Temperament and soul?" she said seriously.

"Why do you, a girl, like to listen to the sound of the piano so much?"

"Because it is brisk, just like the clear spring water in the mountain stream, giving people freshness and brightness." She said, "Sometimes, she makes a weeping voice, as if someone is telling a sad story. In the sound of the piano, people can pick up forgotten memories and restore the original human emotions. Is that right? Lisang . ”

Throughout the autumn vacation, we spent an unforgettable time playing the unique joy and happiness of our youth.

The next year during the autumn break, we returned to our hometown and met again. She had already learned to play the piano.

"Lisang, what song should we play together?" She said happily by the pond, playing the beautiful huqin she bought.

""Liang Shanbo and Zhu Yingtai" or "Wedding Farewell."

"Why do you want to play some sad music?" she asked.

"Because any sorrow in life cannot replace the faint melancholy and sadness that these two songs give people." I said.

She was silent for a while, and then said thoughtfully: "You really shouldn't have given yourself such a name - Lisang. ...Isn't it what the ancients said that life has been hurt by separation since ancient times? ”

That night, Xiaoqin and I pulled the bow strings during the invasion of sixteen-year-old sadness, but as soon as a harmonious and soft sound was played, one of my strings broke with a bang.

"Plough mulberry," Xiaoqin said, "Don't worry, I'll pick it up for you." She used her delicate hands to pick up the string for me, and also picked up a strand of love.

After graduation, I will join the army and leave home. Xiaoqin asked me to go to the pond for the last time. "Lisang, let me play a tune to see you off!"

Under the moonlight, I nodded: "Play it, Xiaoqin."

So, the melodious tune started from It flew out from her fingers and hit, stirring up the emotions of separation in her heart.

"Lisang, you love the harp so much, but you don't have one yourself, so take this one from me."

When we parted, she gave me her huqin. .

For ten years, I have treasured this huqin, and every time the moon shines in the golden autumn, I use it to play out the friendship of the past...