Lyric Pingyin
Fēng qǐ yàn nánxià
jǐng xiāoxiāo luò huáng shā
dú zuò qī hú chá
qī chéng yīyè dēng xià
nǐ zài jǐ lǐ wài de rénjiā xiǎngzhe tā
yī zhēn yīxiàn xiùzhe huā
chén shuāng pān dài wǎ
dǒu luò shuāng lěngle chá
fǔqín yù duìhuà yù wèn qín shēng chū luòxià
xián wài sīniàn tòu chuānghuā
ér nǐ què shénme yě bù huídá
qín xián duànle yuán jǐnle nǐ yě zǒuliǎo
ài hèn qǐluò gùshì jīngguò zhī liú xià wǒ
jǐ fān líchóu shìshì cāntòu dōu rù jiǔ
wèn nǐ shìfǒu xīn bùzài zhè shǎole shénme
qín xián duànle yuán yǐ jìn le nǐ yě zǒuliǎo
nǐ shì guòkè wēnróu dào zhè chénmòle
gǒngqiáo xiépō shuǐ àn mǎtóu shuí jìdé
dù jiāng piānzhōu wǒ shāng yījiù lín xíng huítóu
yuǎnfāng shuí huīshǒu
gǔ chà shānlán rào wùsàn hòu běifēng gāo
chán dìng wǒ jìliáo wǒ shēnhòu fēng hūxiào
dí shēng bàn shānyāo
ér nǐ zài nǎ zuò qiáo
yuǎn yuǎn duì tā zài wéixiào
tíng wài lúwěi huābái mángmáng
xì yǔ qīng qīng dǎqiūfēng guā
jiāng bǐ gē xià huà bù chū shuí zài xiāosǎ
qíngsù jìng duǎnzàn yóurú
sāorén mòkè bǐxià de yānhuā
qín xián duànle yuán yǐ jìn le nǐ yě zǒuliǎo
ài hèn qǐluò gùshì jīngguò zhī liú xià wǒ
ménqián zhú shòu qīngfēng zhé liǔ nǐ yào zǒu
fēng bù tíngliú hékǔ rào lái yáohuàng dēnghuǒ
qín xián duànle yuán yǐ jìn le nǐ yě zǒuliǎo
nǐ shì guòkè wēnróu dào zhè chénmòle
qīng jiě shéngsuǒ hóngchén fàngshǒu miàn duìzhe
suí wǒ bǎidù lí àn dōng liú mòrán huíshǒu
nǐ zài dùchuán kǒu
qín xián duànle yuán jǐnle nǐ yě zǒuliǎo
nǐ shì guòkè wēnróu dào zhè chénmòle
gǒngqiáo xiépō shuǐ àn mǎtóu shuí jìdé
suí wǒ bǎidù lí àn dōng liú mòrán huíshǒu
nǐ zài dùchuán kǒu
English Translate :
Cranes move south as the wind rises
Desolate scenery, yellow dust* falling Sitting alone, brewing a pot of tea
Brewing into nightfall beneath the lanterns
From miles away, you think of him
A needle and a stitch embroidering a flower.
Dawn frost climbs up the umber roof tiles
Trembling frost falls, my tea has gone cold
Playing guqin, just want to talk as it begins to fall
Outside my chords*, memories pass through paper window patterns
And still you never reply.
The strings have snapped*, fate has been exhausted, you are gone too
Love and hate rise and fall, once the story has passed only I remain
Parting sorrows, finally understanding the affairs of the world, have all descended into drink
Asking you, “Is something lost when your heart is absent?”
The strings have snapped, fate has already been exhausted, you are gone too As a passing traveler, your tenderness grows silent Who remembers the slope of the arched bridge, the pier at water’s edge? On a small boat crossing the river, with sorrows still fresh, I look back as I leave At someone waving from afar.
'you'?
Mist swirling around the old mountain temple (1), after the fog scatters, high north winds Decree (2) my loneliness, the wind behind me screaming and whistling Flute sounds reaching halfway up the mountain And which bridge are you on Smiling at him from far away?
Is the name of a mountain or is it 古剎 + 山嵐 as I've assumed?
some kind of Buddhist/Zen reference, a kind of primal, heavenly order
The flowering reeds outside the pavilion are a vast sea of white
A fine drizzle lightly tapping, autumn winds blowing
I lay down my brush, unable to paint – who is it sprinkling the rain?
Sentiments, briefly and unexpectedly, appear as
Fireworks underneath a poet’s(2) brush.
Sounds like it should be 'I' but is probably purposefully ambiguous
'poet' used for convenience, but could also be 'learned man' or 'literary man'
The strings have snapped, fate has already been exhausted, you are gone too
Love and hate rise and fall, once the story has passed only I remain
Thin bamboo before the gate, willows bending under a clean breeze, you intend to leave
The ceaseless wind, why bother looping back around, lantern lights swaying
The strings have snapped, fate has already been exhausted, you are gone too
As a passing traveler, your tenderness grows silent
Gently untying the rope, letting go of the mortal world, you face me (1)
Eyes following my ferry as it flows east from the riverbank – suddenly I turn back and see/remember
You at the ferry’s port.
Subject/object confusion again?
The strings have snapped, fate has already been exhausted, you are gone too
As a passing traveler, your tenderness grows silent
Who remembers the slope of the arched bridge, the pier at the water’s edge?
Eyes following my ferry as it flows east from the riverbank – suddenly I turn back and see/remember
You at the ferry’s port.
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