3.《西市百聲》(Ancient Chinese)

[短引 — 初入西市] 城門一開，人聲如水， 車鈴過耳，香風滿衣。 五人方入，未及相語， 東西十巷，各有歌起。 一人笑問： 「此便長安？」 四人未答—— 滿市先應。 [主歌一 — 五人輪唱] 東有呼客聲， 西有拍板急。 樓前琵琶轉， 簷下小兒笛。 胡商高聲笑， 酒肆擊甕歌。 方聽橋頭曲， 又被巷聲遮。 一人欲記調， 一人已改腔。 五耳皆無暇， 五口各相忙。 [預副歌] 昨日一路唱， 只聽彼此聲。 今日入西市， 何處不相應？ 我唱半句起， 遠巷續其音。 回頭尋四友—— 人海已相侵。 [副歌] 西市百聲，來去如潮， 此街方落，彼巷又高。 我唱一聲，十聲來招， 五聲入市，誰主誰賓？ 西市百聲，各有來程， 南腔北調，共過長亭。 不問誰先，不問誰名， 曲隨人去，又向人迎。 五聲何在？ （百聲之間！） 五人何在？ （且聽其聲！） [主歌二 — 人潮將五人沖散] 午鼓方催，人潮忽轉， 一人向東，兩人向南。 回身不見舊同行者， 只見旌影隔滿長街。 東巷一呼： 「在否？」 西坊有聲： 「在！」 北門又有人接其尾： 「莫走太快！」 笑聲穿過車輪馬蹄， 不見其面，先識其聲。 五人隔在千人之內， 竟以一曲相尋而行。 [預副歌二] 一聲從東來， 一聲自西承。 高樓傳一句， 市井送三層。 原來不相見， 亦可知其人。 五聲穿百聲， 百聲又穿身。 [副歌] 西市百聲，來去如潮， 此街方落，彼巷又高。 我唱一聲，十聲來招， 五聲入市，誰主谁賓？ 西市百聲，各有來程， 南腔北調，共過長亭。 不問誰先，不問誰名， 曲隨人去，又向人迎。 五聲何在？ （百聲之間！） 五人何在？ （且聽其聲！） [橋段 — 五人重聚；一曲流入眾人] 暮前終聚酒旗之下， 五人相笑，各帶新腔。 一人先唱故鄉舊句， 一童隔席錯學其音。 賣餅者拍案成節， 過客隨手擊杯相應。 老者添一句誰也未識， 五人聽罷，反來學之。 曲到半時，舊調已遠， 誰添其首？誰改其終？ 一人忽問： 「此曲誰家？」 眾人相顧。 無人答他。 片刻之後，街頭又唱。 [短間奏 — 琵琶引出五人舊調，笛聲將其改寫；人群以拍手接續] [終副歌 — 五聲與市聲交織] 西市百聲，來去如潮， 此街方落，彼巷又高。 我唱一聲，十聲來招， 五聲入市，不必為高。 西市百聲，各有來程， 商旅童叟，各守其聲。 你添一句，我忘原文， 曲無常主，遇人便生。 五聲何在？ （百聲之間！） 五人何在？ （萬人之間！） 再唱一聲—— 滿街相應。 再唱一聲—— 已非初聲。 [尾聲 — 暮出西市] 暮鼓隔城鳴， 市門人漸稀。 五人並肩出， 各自低聲吟。 有人忽問道： 「方才所唱， 究竟誰之曲？」 無人能答。 身後長街， 仍有人唱。 ———————— English Translation ———————— A Hundred Voices in the Western Market [Short Intro — Entering the Western Market] The city gate opens, and voices pour like water. Cart bells pass their ears; fragrant air catches on their clothes. The five have barely entered, before they can even speak, when songs rise from a dozen streets in every direction. One of them laughs and asks: “Is this Chang’an?” The other four have no time to answer— the whole market answers first. [Verse 1 — The Five Sing in Turn] To the east, merchants call to customers. To the west, wooden clappers hurry the beat. A pipa turns its melody before an upper room; beneath the eaves, a child plays a little flute. Foreign merchants laugh aloud. A wine shop beats on jars and sings. They have only just caught the tune beside the bridge when another alley buries it beneath a different song. One tries to remember a melody; another has already changed it. Five pairs of ears cannot keep up, and five mouths are busy answering everything. [Pre-Chorus] Yesterday, singing along the road, we heard little but one another. Today we enter the Western Market— where is there no answering voice? I begin half a phrase; a distant alley finishes it. I turn to find my four companions— and the sea of people has already swept between us. [Chorus] A hundred voices in the Western Market, coming and going like the tide. One street falls quiet just as another rises. I sing one voice, and ten voices call me back. Five voices enter the market—who is host, and who is guest? A hundred voices in the Western Market, each arriving by its own road. Songs from south and north all pass beneath the same pavilions. Ask not who began it; ask not for a name. A song follows one traveler away, then turns to welcome another. Where are the five voices? (Among the hundred!) Where are the five travelers? (Listen for their song!) [Verse 2 — The Crowd Sweeps the Five Apart] The noon drum sounds, and suddenly the crowd turns. One is carried east; two are drawn south. They turn and can no longer see their old companions— only banners shifting across the crowded avenue. From an eastern alley, someone calls: “Are you there?” From the western quarter comes an answer: “Here!” Then another voice beyond the northern gate catches the phrase: “Don’t walk so fast!” Laughter crosses cart wheels and horses’ hooves. They cannot see one another’s faces, yet know each voice at once. Five companions, hidden among a thousand strangers, find one another by passing a melody through the streets. [Pre-Chorus 2] One voice comes from the east; another carries it from the west. A phrase falls from an upper floor, and the street below returns it threefold. So even without seeing one another, they know who is there. Five voices pass through a hundred voices— and the hundred pass through them in return. [Chorus] A hundred voices in the Western Market, coming and going like the tide. One street falls quiet just as another rises. I sing one voice, and ten voices call me back. Five voices enter the market—who is host, and who is guest? A hundred voices in the Western Market, each arriving by its own road. Songs from south and north all pass beneath the same pavilions. Ask not who began it; ask not for a name. A song follows one traveler away, then turns to welcome another. Where are the five voices? (Among the hundred!) Where are the five travelers? (Listen for their song!) [Bridge — The Five Reunite; Their Song Passes into the Crowd] Before dusk, they finally gather beneath a wine-shop banner. The five laugh at one another, each carrying some new turn of melody. One begins an old phrase from his homeland. A child at another table imitates it incorrectly. The cake seller slaps the counter and gives it a rhythm. A traveler strikes his cup and answers the beat. An old man adds a line that none of the five has ever heard— and after hearing it, the five begin learning it from him. By halfway through the song, their old melody has wandered far away. Who added its beginning? Who changed its ending? One of the five suddenly asks: “Whose song is this?” Everyone looks at everyone else. No one answers. A moment later, someone farther down the street begins singing it again. [Short Instrumental Break — Pipa introduces the five travelers’ old motif; dizi reshapes it, and the crowd continues it with handclaps] [Final Chorus — The Five Voices Interwoven with the Market] A hundred voices in the Western Market, coming and going like the tide. One street falls quiet just as another rises. I sing one voice, and ten voices call me back. Five voices enter the market—they need not rise above it. A hundred voices in the Western Market, each arriving by its own road. Merchant, traveler, child and elder—each keeps a voice of their own. You add a line; I forget how the old one went. A song has no lasting master—it comes alive whenever it meets someone. Where are the five voices? (Among the hundred!) Where are the five travelers? (Among ten thousand!) Sing one more phrase— the whole street answers. Sing one more phrase— and it is no longer the song with which we began. [Outro — Leaving the Western Market at Dusk] The evening drum sounds somewhere across the city. The market gate slowly empties. Five young men leave side by side, each quietly humming. Someone suddenly asks: “That song we were singing... whose was it, in the end?” No one can answer. Behind them, somewhere along the long street, someone is still singing it.