Du Fu

Song of Lady Sun's Female Disciple Dancing Dagger

On October 19, the second year of Dali, Qui-fu drove to the twelve maiden's house to watch the sword dance, which was magnificent. When he asked the teacher, he said, I am a disciple of Gong Sundaniang. In the third year of Kaiyuan, when I was a child, I recorded the vigor of Gongsun Jianfa in Yancheng. When you are frustrated, you are the only one. People from Erjifang, Yichun Liyuan, Gaotou, worship outside. Xiao is a dancer, a sage, and a warrior at the beginning of the emperor. Gongsun is just one person. Jade looks gorgeous and white! Today, my disciples are also ashamed. Since we can distinguish its origin, we can know the wave. Caress generously, talk like a sword. Zhang Xushan, a former Wu man, wrote cursive calligraphy posts and tasted swordsmanship in Xihe, Yexian County. Since then, cursive calligraphy has improved, and he is grateful. That is, gongsun knows!

A few years ago, there was a beautiful Gongsun who danced her dagger from all directions.

The audience is like a mountain lost between them, and the world moves back and forth with her movements.

As bright as an archer shooting down nine suns, as fast as an angel in front of a dragon's wing.

She began to be like a thunderbolt, venting its anger and ending the shining calm like rivers and seas.

But those red lips and pearl sleeves disappeared, and no one except this student smelled of her fame.

This beautiful woman from Linying, White God Town, still dances and sings happily.

When we answer each other's questions, we sigh together and feel sad for the changes that have taken place.

There are 8,000 ladies-in-waiting in the harem, but none of them can dance short sword like Mrs. Sun.

Fifty years have passed, like the rotation of a palm, wind and dust filled the world and covered the imperial house.

The musicians in the pear orchard floated by like fog, and now one or two female musicians are trying to fascinate the cold sun.

There are adult-sized trees beside the emperor's golden tomb, and I seem to hear the grass creaking on the cliff in Qutang.

The song has been sung, the slow-string allegro has stopped, the joy is in full swing, the moon in the east rises, and the sadness follows.

And I, a poor old man, don't know where to go. I must sharpen my feet towards illness and despair on a lonely mountain.

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Seven-character ancient poems

Du Fu

Lady Sun's female disciple danced the dagger song.

On the 9th day of October in the second year of Dali (19), I saw a girl, Li, dancing with a dagger in her hand. I admired her skill and asked who was her teacher. She named Mrs. Sun. I remember three years in Kaiyuan, Yancheng. When I was a child, I watched Mrs. Sun dance. She is the only person in the Imperial Theatre who can dance with this weapon. Now that she is old and unknown, even her pupils have passed the heyday of beauty. I wrote this poem to express my thoughts. When Mrs. Gongsun danced in Yecheng, Zhang Xu, a cursive master of Wu, was also present, and his works were even better. From this, we can judge Gongsun's art.

A long time ago, there lived a beautiful Gongsun.

She danced with a dagger and drew it from all directions.

The audience is like mountains lost in themselves.

With her movements, heaven and earth moved back and forth,

As bright as an archer shooting down nine suns.

As agile as an angel in front of a dragon's wing.

She began to vent her anger like a thunderbolt.

Like a calm river and sea ...

But what disappeared were those red lips and pearl sleeves;

Except this student, no one has the smell of her fame.

This beautiful woman from White God Town, Ling Ying,

Still dancing and singing in the old happy way.

When we answer each other's questions,

We sigh together and feel sad for the changes that have taken place.

There were 8,000 ladies in the court of the late emperor.

But no one can dance the short sword like Mrs. Sun.

..... Fifty years have passed, with a flick of a finger;

Dust fills the world and covers the emperor's home.

Not the players in the pear garden, they blew like fog,

Now one or two female musicians are trying to conquer the cold sun.

There are adult-sized trees next to the emperor's golden tomb.

I seem to hear hay rattling on the cliff in Qutang.

..... The tune is finished, and the slow string and the fast tube have all stopped.

At the climax of joy, sadness comes with the rising of the eastern moon.

And I, a poor old man, don't know where to go.

I must sharpen my feet on the lonely hill, heading for disease and despair.