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Произведение «9_02. Buddhist Monk Plays The Guqin», созданное автором Matter Of Essence, публикуется на условиях лицензии:
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- Buddhist Monk Plays The Guqin
«ЛИ БО (701 – 762)
СЛУШАЮ, КАК БУДДИЙСКИЙ МОНАХ
ЦЗЮНЬ ИЗ ШУ ИГРАЕТ НА ЦИНЕ
Монах из Шу, со струнами зелёного шёлка,
Со склонов западных, гор Эмэйшаньских спустился.
И ради меня взмахнул лишь один раз рукою –
И шум ветра в соснах ущелий, вдруг я услышал.
И сердце скитальца омыло текущей водою,
И в колокол заиндевелый проникли те звуки,
И я не заметил, что темнеют лазурные горы,
Что стали ещё тяжелее осенние тучи.»
Monk from Shu, with silks of verdant sheen,
From Emeishan, a western slope I'd seen.
He waved his hand, a gesture light and free,
And wind-song surged through pines for only me.
The wanderer's heart, by water washed and clean,
Those sounds seeped in, a frosted chime between.
I marked it not, the mountains turned to shade,
The autumn clouds, a heavier burden laid.
The fireflies blinked, a scattered emerald dust,
Upon the path, where ancient temples trust
Their crumbling walls to hold the whispers deep
Of Buddhas past, where weary souls find sleep.
The monk had gone, a shadow in the trees,
But in my soul, the wind still held its ease.
I sought a lodge, where lamplight softly gleamed,
And offered coin for rice and dreams esteemed.
An old man smiled, his face a map of time,
And poured warm wine, with stories in its rhyme.
He spoke of spirits, dwelling in the heights,
Of mountain gods, and long-forgotten rites.
I closed my eyes, and let the darkness flow,
And dreamt of Shu, and Emeishan's soft glow.
The morning broke, with mist upon the peak,
A silent promise, words could never speak.
I rose and walked, towards the rising sun,
My journey started, and had scarce begun.
The monk was gone, the temple far behind,
But in my heart, that monk I hoped to find.