Listening to An Wanshan play the Bili
聽安萬善吹觱篥歌 · Three Hundred Tang Poems
Listening to An Wanshan play the Bili
They cut bamboo from the Southern Mountain to make the bili — this music originally came from Kucha.
It spread to the Han lands, its melodies growing ever stranger; a Liangzhou barbarian plays it for me.
The neighbors who hear it sigh many times; distant guests longing for home all let tears fall.
The world can listen but cannot truly appreciate; the great wind drifts freely through the sky.
Withered mulberry and old cypress shiver in the cold wind; nine fledgling phoenixes cry out in a confused chirping.
The dragon's roar and the tiger's howl burst forth together; ten thousand sounds and a hundred springs join in autumn.
Suddenly it shifts to the *Canyang* variations; yellow clouds wither and the white sun grows dark.
A changing mode seems like hearing the willows of spring; the flowers of Shanglin dazzle the eyes anew.
At year's end in a tall hall, bright candles are set out — a cup of fine wine, and a song with each round.
聽安萬善吹觱篥歌
南山截竹爲觱篥，此樂本自龜茲出。
流傳漢地曲轉奇，涼州胡人爲我吹。
傍鄰聞者多歎息，遠客思鄉皆淚垂。
世人解聽不解賞，長飆風中自來往。
枯桑老柏寒颼飀，九雛鳴鳳亂啾啾。
龍吟虎嘯一時發，萬籟百泉相與秋。
忽然更作漁陽摻，黃雲蕭條白日暗。
變調如聞楊柳春，上林繁花照眼新。
歲夜高堂列明燭，美酒一杯聲一曲。