where maple-leaves and full-grown rushes rustled in the autumn, I was bidding a guest farewell, at night on the Xunyang River

I, the host, had dismounted, my guest had boarded his boat

for all we had drunk we felt no joy and were parting from each other, and we raised our cups and wished to drink-but, alas, there was no music

when the river widened mysteriously toward the full moon

host forgot to turn back home, and guest to go his way, we had heard a sudden sound, a guitar across the water

Sounding for the sound, secretly asking the bomber who stops playing the lute, wanting to talk late

Moving the boat near, inviting us to meet each other, adding wine, returning to the lights and reopening the banquet

Long-awaited, still holding the lute half-covered

The spindle plucks the strings three or two times, and the melody does not come into being, As if she were telling us the ache of her whole life

she knit her brows, flexed her fingers, then began her music, little by little letting her heart share everything with ours

she brushed the strings, twisted them slow, swept them, plucked them, first the air of The Rainbow Skirt, then The Six Little Ones

the large strings hummed like rain, the small strings whispered like a secret

If you whisper

hummed, whispered-and then were intermingled, big beads, small beads, falling jade plates

Guan Ying's words are slippery at the bottom of the flower, and it's difficult to flow under the ice in the throat spring

The ice spring is cold and astringent, the strings are frozen, and the sound will never stop

Don't worry about it, and the silence is better than the sound

. And out leapt armored horses and weapons that clashed and smote

swords and guns blare

and all four strings made one sound, as of rending silk, and, before she laid her pick down, she ended with one stroke

Rusi

and we saw the white autumnal moon enter the river's heart, there was quiet in the east boat and quiet in the west

Qiuyuebai

Pondering over the strings, she rose and smoothed her clothing and, formal, courteous

living in her parents' house under the Mount of Toads, told us how she had spent her girlhood at the capital

The pipa learned in the 13th year became famous, which belongs to the first part of the teaching workshop

After singing, I taught the good, only then dressed up as a girl who was jealous by Qiuniang

Wuling was young and contended. Head silver grate broken and skirts the colour of blood been spoiled with stains of wine

autumn moons and spring winds had passed without her heeding, season after season, joy had followed joy

and evenings went and evenings came, and her beauty faded, till first her brother left for the war, and then her aunt died

Cold pommel horse in front of so that finally she gave herself as wife to a merchant

Businessman's wife

had gone, a month before, to Fuliang to buy tea, who, prizing money first, careless how he left her

Buy tea

Go to Jiangkou to wait for an empty boat to sail around the moon, the river is cold

The river is cold

Suddenly dreaming at night, dreaming of teenagers, crying, blushing and drying up

Red withered < This language is heavy chirp

we meet. We understand. What does acquaintance matter?, we are both unhappy -- to the sky's end

and am now a sick exile here in Jiujiang, I came, a year ago, away from the capital

neither string nor bamboo, for a whole year, and so remote is Jiujiang that I have heard no music

with bitter reeds and yellowed rushes all about the house, my quarters, near the River Town, are low and damp

In the meantime, what do you smell at dusk? The cuckoo cries and the ape cries

Spring River flowers bloom in autumn and moonlit nights, and wine is often drunk alone

There are no folk songs and village flutes. It's hard to hear

It's like listening to the fairy music tonight. And I will write a long song concerning a guitar.

Pipa Xing

...Moved by what I said, she stood there for a moment then sat again to her strings-and they sounded even sadder

The string turns sharply

although the tunes were different from those she had played before the feasters, all listening, covered their faces

All are crying

but who of them all was crying the most? this Jiujiang official. My blue sleeve was wet

The blue shirt is wet

this Jiujiang official. My blue sleeve was wet

2. It is produced by Parallel World Studio, and it is one of a series of songs endorsed by the college entrance examination. It is sung by Qi Ran and Shen Miren.