Hearing An Wanshan Play the Bili
English translation and interpretation are being reviewed.
此乐本自龟兹出。
流传汉地曲转奇，
凉州胡人为我吹。
傍邻闻者多叹息，
远客思乡皆泪垂。
世人解听不解赏，
长飙风中自来往。
枯桑老柏寒飕飗，
九雏鸣凤乱啾啾。
龙吟虎啸一时发，
万籁百泉相与秋。
忽然更作渔阳掺，
黄云萧条白日暗。
变调如闻杨柳春，
上林繁花照眼新。
岁夜高堂列明烛，
美酒一杯声一曲。
English translation
Cut bamboo on the southern hills to make a bili, this music first came out of Kucha.
Passing into Han lands its tunes grew stranger still, and a Tartar of Liangzhou plays it for me.
The neighbors who hear it sigh again and again, travelers far from home all let their tears fall.
The world knows how to listen but not how to prize, a long gale that comes and goes upon the wind.
Withered mulberry, aged cypress, cold and soughing, nine young phoenixes crying in confused chirps.
Dragons chanting, tigers roaring, all breaking out at once, ten thousand sounds, a hundred springs, sharing the autumn.
Suddenly he changes to the Yuyang Strike, yellow clouds desolate, the white sun darkens.
Then the key alters, and one seems to hear Willows of Spring, the blossoms of Shanglin Park dazzle the eye anew.
On New Year's Eve, bright candles are ranged in the high hall, one cup of fine wine, and one tune.
Meaning
Cut from bamboo on the southern hills they make the bili; this instrument came originally from Kucha.
Brought into the lands of Han, its tunes grew strange and new; at Liangzhou a Hu named An Wanshan plays it for me.
The listeners seated around all heave great sighs; the traveller far from home weeps for sorrow.
The world knows only how to listen, not how to appreciate; the musician is like one walking alone in a raging storm.
Again it is like the wind soughing through dead mulberry and old cypress; like nine young phoenixes calling in chorus.
It seems as though a dragon's roar and a tiger's growl burst forth together; again, as though in autumn a hundred springs joined in one great sound.
Suddenly it changes to the grave and stirring Yuyang Strike, and at once the daylight darkens and black clouds scud across the sky.
Again it changes to the gay and lively Willow Branch, and one seems to see the Shanglin Park in a blaze of flowers.
On New Year's Eve the bright candles blaze in the high hall; I drink a cup of good wine and hear once more a tune upon the bili.