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七言古詩 杜甫 觀公孫大娘弟子舞劍器行并序
[_]
大歷二年十月十九日夔府別駕元持宅見臨潁李十二 娘舞劍器，壯其蔚跂。問其所師，曰︰余公孫大娘 弟子也。開元三載，余尚童稚，記於郾城觀公孫氏 舞劍器渾脫。瀏灕頓挫，獨出冠時。自高頭宜春梨 園二伎坊內人，洎外供奉，曉是舞者，聖文神武皇 帝初，公孫一人而已。玉貌錦衣，況余白首！今茲
弟子亦匪盛顏。既辨其由來，知波瀾莫二。撫事慷 慨，聊為劍器行。昔者吳人張旭善草書書帖，數嘗 於鄴縣見公孫大娘舞西河劍器，自此草書長進，豪 蕩感激。即公孫可知矣！
昔有佳人公孫氏， 一舞劍器動四方。
觀者如山色沮喪， 天地為之久低昂。
霍如羿射九日落， 矯如群帝驂龍翔，
來如雷霆收震怒， 罷如江海凝清光。
絳唇珠袖兩寂寞， 晚有弟子傳芬芳。
臨潁美人在白帝， 妙舞此曲神揚揚。
與余問答既有以， 感時撫事增惋傷。
先帝侍女八千人， 公孫劍器初第一。
五十年間似反掌， 風塵澒洞昏王室。
梨園子弟散如煙， 女樂餘姿映寒日。
金粟堆前木已拱， 瞿塘石城草蕭瑟。
玳筵急管曲復終， 樂極哀來月東出。
老夫不知其所往？ 足繭荒山轉愁疾。
觀者如山色沮喪， 天地為之久低昂。
霍如羿射九日落， 矯如群帝驂龍翔，
來如雷霆收震怒， 罷如江海凝清光。
絳唇珠袖兩寂寞， 晚有弟子傳芬芳。
臨潁美人在白帝， 妙舞此曲神揚揚。
與余問答既有以， 感時撫事增惋傷。
先帝侍女八千人， 公孫劍器初第一。
五十年間似反掌， 風塵澒洞昏王室。
梨園子弟散如煙， 女樂餘姿映寒日。
金粟堆前木已拱， 瞿塘石城草蕭瑟。
玳筵急管曲復終， 樂極哀來月東出。
老夫不知其所往？ 足繭荒山轉愁疾。
Seven-character-ancient-verse
Du Fu
A SONG OF DAGGER-DANCING TO A GIRL-PUPIL
OF LADY GONGSUN
[_]
On the 19th of the Tenth-month in the second year of Dali, I saw, in the house of the Kueifu official Yuante, a girl named Li from Lingying
dancing with a dagger. I admired her skill and asked who was her teacher. She named Lady Gongsun. I remembered that in the third year of Kaiyuan at Yancheng, when I
was a little boy, I saw Lady Gongsun dance. She was the only one in the Imperial Theatre who could dance with this weapon. Now she is aged and unknown, and even her
pupil has passed the heyday of beauty. I wrote this poem to express my wistfulness. The work of Zhang Xu of the Wu district, that great master of grassy writing, was
improved by his having been present when Lady Gongsun danced in the Yeh district. From this may be judged the art of Gongsun.
There lived years ago the beautiful Gongsun,
Who, dancing with her dagger, drew from all four quarters
An audience like mountains lost among themselves.
Heaven and earth moved back and forth, following her motions,
Which were bright as when the Archer shot the nine suns down the sky
And rapid as angels before the wings of dragons.
She began like a thunderbolt, venting its anger,
And ended like the shining calm of rivers and the sea....
But vanished are those red lips and those pearly sleeves;
And none but this one pupil bears the perfume of her fame,
This beauty from Lingying, at the Town of the White God,
Dancing still and singing in the old blithe way.
And while we reply to each other's questions,
We sigh together, saddened by changes that have come.
There were eight thousand ladies in the late Emperor's court,
But none could dance the dagger-dance like Lady Gongsun.
...Fifty years have passed, like the turning of a palm;
Wind and dust, filling the world, obscure the Imperial House.
Instead of the Pear-Garden Players, who have blown by like a mist,
There are one or two girl-musicians now-trying to charm the cold Sun.
There are man-size trees by the Emperor's Golden Tomb
I seem to hear dead grasses rattling on the cliffs of Qutang.
...The song is done, the slow string and quick pipe have ceased.
At the height of joy, sorrow comes with the eastern moon rising.
And I, a poor old man, not knowing where to go,
Must harden my feet on the lone hills, toward sickness and despair.
Who, dancing with her dagger, drew from all four quarters
An audience like mountains lost among themselves.
Heaven and earth moved back and forth, following her motions,
Which were bright as when the Archer shot the nine suns down the sky
And rapid as angels before the wings of dragons.
She began like a thunderbolt, venting its anger,
And ended like the shining calm of rivers and the sea....
But vanished are those red lips and those pearly sleeves;
And none but this one pupil bears the perfume of her fame,
This beauty from Lingying, at the Town of the White God,
Dancing still and singing in the old blithe way.
And while we reply to each other's questions,
We sigh together, saddened by changes that have come.
There were eight thousand ladies in the late Emperor's court,
But none could dance the dagger-dance like Lady Gongsun.
...Fifty years have passed, like the turning of a palm;
Wind and dust, filling the world, obscure the Imperial House.
Instead of the Pear-Garden Players, who have blown by like a mist,
There are one or two girl-musicians now-trying to charm the cold Sun.
There are man-size trees by the Emperor's Golden Tomb
I seem to hear dead grasses rattling on the cliffs of Qutang.
...The song is done, the slow string and quick pipe have ceased.
At the height of joy, sorrow comes with the eastern moon rising.
And I, a poor old man, not knowing where to go,
Must harden my feet on the lone hills, toward sickness and despair.
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