On Hearing an Wanshan Play the Reed-pipe
- Poetry of Li Qi

南山截竹为觱篥，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。

Bamboo from the southern hills was used to make this pipe.

And its music, that was introduced from Persia first of all,

Has taken on new magic through later use in China.

And now the Tartar from Liangzhou, blowing it for me,

Drawing a sigh from whosoever hears it,

Is bringing to a wanderer's eyes homesick tears....

Many like to listen; but few understand.

To and fro at will there's a long wind flying,

Dry mulberry-trees, old cypresses, trembling in its chill.

There are nine baby phoenixes, outcrying one another;

A dragon and a tiger spring up at the same moment;

Then in a hundred waterfalls ten thousand songs of autumn

Are suddenly changing to The Yuyang Lament;

And when yellow clouds grow thin and the white sun darkens,

They are changing still again to Spring in the Willow Trees.

Like Imperial Garden flowers, brightening the eye with beauty,

Are the high-hall candles we have lighted this cold night,

And with every cup of wine goes another round of music.