1. The rhythm of the song at the top of the song echoes with the sound of the Cong Cong, and the red waist swirls wildly into the dance. ——Song Dynasty Yan Shu's "Magnolia·Green Pond Water and Warm Breeze"

Vernacular translation: At the banquet, she sang overlapping lyrics before and after, and her singing voice was like jade. Then, she danced her waist to the rapid beat of the song, and her red skirt whirled, making people overwhelmed.

2. Slow singing, slow dancing, and silk and bamboo dances, which the king is not satisfied with. ——"Song of Everlasting Sorrow" by Bai Juyi of the Tang Dynasty

Vernacular translation: The light singing, dancing, and harmonious orchestral melody are all vivid, and the king can watch it all day long but never tire of it.

3. Light gathering, slow twisting and wiping, then picking again, first "Neon Shang" and then "Liu Yao". The big strings are as noisy as the rain, and the small strings are as loud as whispers. The bullets are noisy and mixed, and big and small beads fall on the jade plate. ——Bai Juyi of the Tang Dynasty, "Pipa Xing"

Vernacular translation: Gently gather, slowly twist, sometimes wipe, sometimes pick. The first performance was "The Song of Colorful Feather Clothes" and then the "Liu Yao". The big string is loud, long and noisy like a storm; the small string is gentle and quiet, like someone whispering.

4. This song should only exist in heaven, and can only be heard several times in the human world. ——Du Fu, Tang Dynasty, "Giving Flowers to the Queen"

Vernacular translation: Such music should only exist in heaven, how can it be heard so many times in the world?

5. The orioles in Guan Guan say that the flower bottom is slippery, and it is difficult to go under the ice of Youyan Spring. The ice spring is cold and the strings are condensed, and the condensation will never pass the sound for a while. Don't worry and hate yourself. Silence is better than sound at this time. ——Bai Juyi of the Tang Dynasty, "Pipa Play"

Vernacular translation: The sound of the pipa is sometimes like the smooth and smooth sound of birdsong under the flowers, and sometimes like the deep, low and intermittent sound of water flowing under the ice. It was as if the sound of the pipa played by the cold water in the spring began to condense, and the condensed and unsmooth sound gradually stopped. It's like another kind of sadness and hatred is secretly growing; at this time, the silence is more moving than the sound.