{"id":3101,"date":"2023-10-08T10:56:58","date_gmt":"2023-10-08T10:56:58","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/meumon.synology.me\/museu\/?p=3101"},"modified":"2024-12-22T11:50:08","modified_gmt":"2024-12-22T11:50:08","slug":"balada-del-llaut-bai-juyi","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/meumon.synology.me\/museu\/balada-del-llaut-bai-juyi\/","title":{"rendered":"Bai Juyi, 772-846"},"content":{"rendered":"

Literatura xinesa<\/a>\u00a0Tang<\/a><\/p>\n

\n

LA CITARA<\/strong><\/p>\n

Deixo la c\u00edtara sobre la taula
\ni m’assec ple d’emoci\u00f3.
\nNo em cal polsar-ne les cordes:
\nel vent fa que sonin soles.<\/p>\n

(Manel Oll\u00e9)<\/p>\n

\n

Night Rain<\/strong><\/p>\n

Chirp of an early cricket. Silence.
\nThe lamp dies then flares up again.
\nNight must be raining outside the window:
\nplink, plunk on the banana leaves.<\/p>\n

\n

Song of an Evening River<\/strong><\/p>\n

A ray of setting sun paves the water,
\nhalf the river is emerald, half the river ruby.
\nI love the third night in the ninth month-
\ndewdrops turn into pearls, the moon into a bow.<\/p>\n

\n

Balada del lla\u00fct<\/strong><\/p>\n

(el poeta explica que, trobant-se amb un amic al vespre en un vaixell va sentir alg\u00fa que tocava el lla\u00fct en una embarcaci\u00f3. Era una prostituta de la capital, ara ja gran, que havia apr\u00e8s a tocar amb els mestres Mu i Cao. Despr\u00e9s d’una joventut admirada per tothom, en fer-se gran i decaure la seva bellesa s’havia casat amb un mercader.\u00a0 (Antologia de Barnstone i Ping p. 174)<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Seeing off a guest at night by the Xunyang River,
\nI felt autumn shivering on maple leaves and reed flowers.
\nI dismounted from my horse and my guest stepped on the boat;
\nwe raised our cups for a drink without the music of pipes or strings.<\/p>\n

We got drunk but not happy, mourning his departure.
\nWhen he embarked, the moon was half drowned in the river.
\nSuddenly we heard a lute sing across the water
\nand the host forgot to return home, and the guest stopped his boat.<\/p>\n

Following the sound we softly inquired who the musician was,
\nthe lute fell silent and the answer came after a pause.
\nWe steered our boat close and invited her to join us,
\nwith wine refilled and lamp relit, our banquet opened again.
\nIt took a thousand pleases and ten thousand invitations before she appeared,
\nthough with her lute she still hid half her face.
\nShe plucked a few times to tune her strings.<\/p>\n

Even before the melody formed one felt her emotion.
\nEach string sounded muted and each note meditative,
\nas if the music were narrating the sorrows of her life.
\nWith eyebrows lowered she let her hands freely strum on and on,
\npouring pent-up feelings out of her heart.
\nSoftly strumming, plucking, sweeping, and twanging the strings,
\nshe played “Rainbow Garment” then “Green Waist.”<\/p>\n

The thick strings splattered like a rain shower,
\nthe thin strings whispered privately like lovers,
\nsplattering and whispering back and forth,
\nbig pearls and small pearls dropping into a jade plate.
\nSmooth, the notes were skylarks chirping under flowers.
\nUneven, the sound flowed like a spring under ice,<\/p>\n

the spring water cold and strained, the strings congealing silence,
\nfreezing to silence, till the sounds couldn’t pass, and were momentarily at rest.<\/p>\n

Now some other hidden sorrow and dark regret arose
\nand at this moment silence was better than sound.
\nSuddenly a silver vase exploded and the water splashed out,
\niron horses galloped through and swords and spears clashed.
\nWhen the tune stopped, she struck the heart of the instrument,
\nall four strings together, like a piece of silk tearing.
\nSilence then in the east boat and the west.
\nAll I could see in the river’s heart was the autumn moon, so pale.<\/p>\n

Silently she placed the pick between the strings,
\nstraightened her garment and stood up with a serious face.
\nShe told us, “I was a girl from the capital,
\nlived close to the Tombs of the Toad.
\nI finished studying lute at the age of thirteen,
\nand was first string in the Bureau of Women Musicians.
\nWhen my tunes stopped, the most talented players were humbled,
\nother girls were constantly jealous when they saw me made up,
\nthe rich young city men competed to throw me brocade head scarves,
\nand I was given countless red silks after playing a tune.
\nMy listeners broke hairpins and combs when they followed my rhythm.
\nI stained my blood-colored silk skirt with wine
\nand laughed all year and laughed the next,
\nand autumn moon and spring wind passed unnoticed.
\nMy brother was drafted and my madame died.
\nAn evening passed, and when morning came my beauty was gone.
\nMy door became desolate and horses seldom came,
\nand as I was getting old I married a merchant.
\nMy merchant cared more about profit than being with me.
\nA month ago he went to Fuliang to buy tea.
\nI am here to watch this empty boat at the mouth of the river.
\nThe bright moon circles around the boat and the water is very cold.
\nDeep into the night I suddenly dreamed about my young days
\nand wept in dream as tears streaked through my rouge.”<\/p>\n

I was already sighing, listening to her lute,
\nbut her story made me even sadder.
\nI said, “We both are exiled to the edge of this world
\nand our hearts meet though we’ve never met before.
\nSince I left the capital last year,
\nI was exiled to Xunyang and became sick.
\nXunyang is too small to have any music;
\nall year round I heard no strings or pipes.
\nMy home is close to the Pen River, low and damp,
\nand yellow reeds and bitter bamboo surround the house.
\nWhat do you think I hear there day and night?
\nCuckoos chirping blood and the sad howls of apes.
\nSpring river, blossoming morning and autumn moon night-
\nI often have my wine and drink by myself.<\/p>\n

It is not that there are no folk songs or village flutes,
\nbut their yawps and moans are just too noisy for my ear.
\nTonight I heard your lute speak and my ear pricked up, listening to fairy music.
\nPlease don’t decline, sit down to play another tune,
\nand I’ll write a ‘Song of the Lute’ for you.”<\/p>\n

Touched by my words she stood there for a long time,
\nthen sat down and tuned up her strings and speeded up the rhythm.
\nSad and touching it was different from her last song
\nand everyone started to weep.
\nIf you ask, “Who shed most tears in this group?”
\nThe marshal of Jiangzhou’s black gown was all wet.<\/p>\n

\n

Balada de la ta\u00f1edora del la\u00fad<\/p>\n

De noche fui a la orilla del r\u00edo
\npara despedirme de un amigo.
\nSent\u00eda el melanc\u00f3lico susurro
\nde la hojas de los arces
\ny de las flores de los juncos.
\nBaj\u00e9 del caballo.
\nYa me esperaba en la barca.
\nLevantamos las copas y apuramos.
\n\u00a1Qu\u00e9 l\u00e1stima no tener
\nla\u00fades y flautas
\npara aprisionar el instante!<\/p>\n

El vino no nos dio alegr\u00eda.
\nBajo una luna ba\u00f1ada
\nen la inmensidad del agua
\n\u00edbamos a separamos,
\ntristes, cuando de repente
\nnos llegaron cautivantes
\ndulces voces de un la\u00fad
\ny fuimos retenidos.
\nPreguntamos en voz baja
\nqui\u00e9n lo pulsaba.
\nCes\u00f3 la m\u00fasica
\nsin adelantar respuesta.
\nAproximamos la barca.
\nDe nuevo encend\u00ed la l\u00e1mpara.
\nVolvimos a poner la mesa;
\nllenamos de vino las copas,
\ny a la ta\u00f1edora invitamos.
\nS\u00f3lo tras ruegos repetidos
\napareci\u00f3, con el la\u00fad en los brazos,
\ny medio cubierto el rostro.<\/p>\n

Templa las cuerdas
\ny, a\u00fan sin interpretar,
\nllena el espacio de emoci\u00f3n.
\nUna a una vibran de tristeza,
\ny cada acorde es un lamento
\nde indescriptibles sufrimientos.
\nInclinando la cabeza,
\nella sigue tocando,
\ny as\u00ed se desahoga
\nde infinitas penas.
\nOra puntea las cuerdas,
\nora las rasga;
\nta\u00f1idos fuertes,
\ndespu\u00e9s ligeros.
\nPrimero nos endulza
\n\u00abVestido de Arco Iris\u00bb,
\ny luego \u00abVerde Cintura\u00bb.
\nDe las cuerdas gruesas
\nse desata una furiosa tormenta,
\ny de las delgadas,
\nel alegre murmullo de muchachas.<\/p>\n

Notas sonoras se mezclan
\ncon susurrantes notas.
\nPerlas grandes y peque\u00f1as
\ncaen en un plato de jade,
\ny en medio de frescas flores
\ntrinar y trinar alegres.
\nPor debajo del l\u00edmpido hielo,
\nvienen sollozos de un arroyo.
\nCong\u00e9lanse y cesan luego.
\n\u00a1Qu\u00e9 tristeza m\u00e1s profunda
\nmora en el fondo del alma!<\/p>\n

Por instantes el silencio
\nexpresa m\u00e1s que la m\u00fasica.
\nDe pronto, quebrado jarr\u00f3n de plata
\ny agua esparcida, cristalina.
\nOigo el galope de corceles
\ny furiosos ruidos de sables y jinetes;
\nla ejecuci\u00f3n termina.
\nPor entre las cuerdas
\nque suenan como al rasgarse
\nuna tela de seda,
\nel plectro se retira.
\nDe silencio est\u00e1n cubiertas
\nlas dos barcas.
\nS\u00f3lo la luna plateada
\nyace en el centro del r\u00edo.<\/p>\n

Indecisa, la ta\u00f1edora
\nguarda el plectro.
\nSe estira la ropa,
\ngrave la expresi\u00f3n,
\nse levanta y dice:
\n\u00abNac\u00ed en la capital;
\nviv\u00eda mi familia
\ncerca del Mausoleo Siamo.
\nA la edad de trece
\naprend\u00ed a ta\u00f1er el la\u00fad,
\ny mi nombre estaba en la lista
\nde las ta\u00f1edoras m\u00e1s destacadas.
\nCada vez que interpretaba,
\nlos maestros me prodigaban elogios,
\ny con mi bello rostro
\nme convert\u00ed en la envidia
\nde las artistas celebradas.
\nLos j\u00f3venes ricos se disputaban
\npor galantearme y obsequiarme.
\nPara escuchar una sola pieza
\nme regalaban con seda abundante;
\nquebraban, para llevar el comp\u00e1s,
\nmis horquillas floreadas de plata,
\ny el vino que derramaban
\nregaba mi falda p\u00farpura.
\nEntre acordes y risas
\nun a\u00f1o sigui\u00f3 al otro.
\nPas\u00f3 el viento de primavera.
\nSe ocult\u00f3 la luna de oto\u00f1o.
\nEl ej\u00e9rcito se llev\u00f3 a mi hermano,
\ny la muerte, a mi t\u00eda.
\nSe marchit\u00f3 la flor de mi vida.
\nCada vez menos carruajes
\nse estacionaban frente a mi puerta.
\nCas\u00e9 con un comerciante,
\nquien me trajo a esta aldea.
\nLa separaci\u00f3n le importa nada:
\na \u00e9l s\u00f3lo le atraen las ganancias.
\nSali\u00f3 a comprar el mes pasado,
\ndej\u00e1ndome sola en la barca,
\nacompa\u00f1ada de la luna
\ny el g\u00e9lido r\u00edo.
\nMuchas veces, en las noches avanzadas,
\nsue\u00f1o con mis felices tiempos pasados,
\ny corren las l\u00e1grimas
\ncomo por arroyuelos rosados.\u00bb<\/p>\n

Escuchando la ejecuci\u00f3n,
\nme penetraba su lamento,
\ny la desconsolada narraci\u00f3n
\nme carga un pesado dolor.
\nEstamos en orfandad de la suerte,
\ny para comprendernos
\nnos basta un solo encuentro.<\/p>\n

\u00abAbandon\u00e9 la capital el a\u00f1o pasado,
\ny vine desterrado, enfermo.
\nEn este lugar apartado
\nno o\u00ed ni una canci\u00f3n hermosa
\ndesde tan largo tiempo.
\nVivo a la orilla del r\u00edo,
\nen h\u00famedo y bajo paraje;
\nmi casa est\u00e1 rodeada
\nde ca\u00f1as amargas
\ny amarillos juncos.
\nA mis o\u00eddos s\u00f3lo llegan
\ndesgarradores lamentos de cucos
\ny aullidos melanc\u00f3licos de monos.
\nEn las florecientes ma\u00f1anas de primavera
\ny en las oto\u00f1ales noches de luna,
\nante una jarra de vino, bebo solo.
\nAunque se oyen coplas y flautas,
\nson feas y me desagradan.
\nEsta noche me ha sido deleitante
\nal escuchar su interpretaci\u00f3n.
\nMe purific\u00f3 el coraz\u00f3n
\ny me parecieron melod\u00edas
\nde las divinidades.
\nLe ruego que nos toque algo m\u00e1s.
\nImprovisar\u00e9 un poema titulado
\nLa Ta\u00f1edora del La\u00fad
\ny a usted va dedicado.\u00bb<\/p>\n

La bella dama, conmovida,
\npermanece de pie largo rato.
\nLuego se sienta
\ny, con cadencias aceleradas,
\npulsa las cuerdas.
\nVibran tan desconsoladas,
\nque arrancan a todos l\u00e1grimas.
\nEl que compone este poema,
\nba\u00f1ada su t\u00fanica,
\nes quien llora con m\u00e1s tristeza.<\/p>\n

\n

Bai Juyi (772 \u2013 846)<\/p>\n

Tamb\u00e9 anomenat “Pipa Xing”.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Literatura xinesa\u00a0Tang LA CITARA Deixo la c\u00edtara sobre la taula i m’assec ple d’emoci\u00f3. No em cal polsar-ne les cordes: el vent fa que sonin soles. (Manel Oll\u00e9) Night Rain Chirp of an early cricket. Silence. The lamp dies then flares up again. Night must be raining outside the window: plink, plunk on the banana … <\/p>\n

Continue reading “Bai Juyi, 772-846”<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[151],"tags":[615,570],"anotacio":[],"civilitzacio":[],"spec":[],"aspecies":[],"Tema poesia":[618,619],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/meumon.synology.me\/museu\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3101"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/meumon.synology.me\/museu\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/meumon.synology.me\/museu\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/meumon.synology.me\/museu\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/meumon.synology.me\/museu\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=3101"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"http:\/\/meumon.synology.me\/museu\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3101\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/meumon.synology.me\/museu\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=3101"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/meumon.synology.me\/museu\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=3101"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/meumon.synology.me\/museu\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=3101"},{"taxonomy":"anotacio","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/meumon.synology.me\/museu\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/anotacio?post=3101"},{"taxonomy":"civilitzacio","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/meumon.synology.me\/museu\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/civilitzacio?post=3101"},{"taxonomy":"spec","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/meumon.synology.me\/museu\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/spec?post=3101"},{"taxonomy":"aspecies","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/meumon.synology.me\/museu\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/aspecies?post=3101"},{"taxonomy":"Tema poesia","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/meumon.synology.me\/museu\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/Tema poesia?post=3101"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}