Nyra

Such a beautiful and touching passage. Now that I understand the meaning of the lyrics, your voice expresses the emotions of the song so beautifully and so perfectly. 🌹🌹🌹💕🌸💕

Nyra

This opening is especially beautiful because it feels almost like the beginning of an old Chinese painting: the last snow of winter, a bridge, wine, a painted boat, music, pear blossoms, and someone quietly carrying thoughts of another person. Beneath that elegance, though, there is loneliness and longing. 立春橋上倦雪殘薄衣題幾字 At the beginning of spring, weary snow still lingers on the bridge; lightly dressed, I write a few words. 立春 is the first of the 24 traditional Chinese solar terms and marks the symbolic beginning of spring. Yet 倦雪殘 tells us that winter has not completely disappeared. The remaining snow is described almost as if it were tired—倦雪, “weary snow”—lingering reluctantly before finally melting away. That creates an emotional landscape immediately. Spring should mean renewal, but the speaker is still surrounded by traces of winter. It suggests a heart caught between what has passed and what is beginning. 薄衣題幾字 gives us a solitary figure dressed lightly, writing only “a few characters.” We aren’t told what those words are. That restraint is important: there are feelings that cannot—or perhaps dare not—be written completely. It has the feeling of someone carrying an entire story inside herself but allowing only a few words to escape. 二三錢換來杯酒簷下臥 With a few coins, I buy a cup of wine and lie beneath the eaves. The scene becomes wonderfully humble. 二三錢 means only a small amount of money. There is no grand banquet, luxurious room or elaborate life here—just enough money for a cup of wine. Then comes 簷下臥: lying beneath the eaves. It creates the image of someone wandering almost carelessly through life, content with very little. A little shelter, a little wine, perhaps some music—and thoughts of someone far more precious than any material comfort. There is also something slightly 江湖 about it: a free, wandering existence, detached from wealth and status. 待畫舫歸來聽一曲成眠 I wait for the painted pleasure boat to return, then fall asleep listening to a song. 畫舫 is a beautifully decorated boat traditionally associated with rivers, lakes, music and entertainment. In classical imagery, one can imagine lanterns reflected upon the water while music drifts from the boat. The speaker doesn’t demand anything extraordinary from the night. She simply waits for the boat to return so that she can 聽一曲成眠—listen to one song and fall asleep. That makes music feel almost like companionship. The world around her may be lonely, but a song is enough to accompany her into sleep. And because the following line introduces the beloved, the music almost seems to open the doorway between waking life and longing. 醉裡嘗聞君夢我 In my drunkenness, I once heard that you dreamed of me. This is one of the most tender lines in the passage. 君 is the classical, intimate way of saying “you,” often used for someone deeply regarded or loved. But notice how uncertain everything is: 醉裡 — while drunk 嘗聞 — once heard / once heard it said 君夢我 — you dreamed of me She doesn’t say, “You told me you loved me.” She has only heard that the other person dreamed of her. And because she herself is drunk, the boundary between truth, rumour, memory and wish becomes blurred. Did the beloved really dream of her? Did someone tell her? Is she remembering it correctly? Or is this something she desperately wants to believe? Yet emotionally, one thought is enough: Somewhere inside your dreams, perhaps I existed too. For someone who longs quietly, that tiny possibility can mean everything. 輕旋條案前梨花偏 I turn lightly before the long table, while the pear blossoms drift to one side. Now the passage begins to feel theatrical. 輕旋 suggests a graceful turn or movement, almost like the movement of a performer. 條案 is a traditional long, narrow table often seen in classical interiors or stage settings. And then there is 梨花—pear blossom. Pear blossoms are white, delicate and transient, and Chinese poetry frequently uses falling blossoms to evoke beauty, spring, separation and the passing of time. So visually, it is exquisite: a woman turns lightly, her sleeves perhaps moving with her, while white blossoms drift around her. But the beauty is fragile. The blossoms will fall. Spring will pass. And the moment she is experiencing cannot be held forever. There may also be a subtle theatrical resonance in 梨花, because 梨園 (“Pear Garden”) became a traditional term associated with Chinese opera and theatrical performers. Given how heavily the rest of 《昔言》 revolves around the stage, performance, makeup and 戲文, the pear-blossom imagery feels particularly fitting. 重拾心思唱俗戀 Gathering up my thoughts once more, I sing of ordinary human love. This line brings us to the emotional heart of the passage. 重拾心思 means gathering up thoughts or feelings that had perhaps been put aside. And then: 唱俗戀 — singing of worldly, ordinary love. The word 俗 is interesting. It can mean ordinary, worldly, mundane or belonging to mortal life. Against all the elegant imagery—the bridge, snow, painted boat, blossoms, music—the thing she ultimately sings about is something very human: love. Not immortality. Not glory. Not wealth. Just the old, ordinary human experience of loving someone. And perhaps that is precisely the point. People have sung about love for thousands of years; countless plays have told the same stories of meeting, longing, separation and reunion. Her love is therefore “俗”—nothing unprecedented. But when it happens to you, it never feels ordinary. The passage as a whole The opening moves almost like a dream: late snow → a few written words → cheap wine → music on the river → sleep → the beloved appearing through a dream → pear blossoms → a song about love. And there is a beautiful contrast running through all of it. The speaker’s physical life is extremely simple—a few coins, one cup of wine, shelter beneath the eaves—yet her inner world is extraordinarily rich. Most importantly, 醉裡嘗聞君夢我 quietly changes everything. She isn’t merely wandering through a picturesque spring landscape. She is carrying someone in her heart. And soon, when the song moves into theatre, makeup and “哪個愛我真容顏” — “Who loves my true face?”, we begin to understand that 《昔言》 isn’t simply asking whether someone loves the performer. It is asking something much more vulnerable: When the song ends, the costume comes off, and there is no role left to play—will you still recognise and love the person standing there?

Nyra

Such a beautiful song. I love the sound very much. It sounds so beautiful. I have no idea what it’s about yet, though 😁