Chapter 3 Who Translated Yuefu's Desolate Song

I always want to tell someone the story of my eldest sister Jin Shunjin, but I always hesitate. After all, this is a very old, ordinary, plain, and unremarkable story. What is new, of course, not to mention the profound practical significance.The reason why I rashly bring up this topic that does not attract others' interest is because I know that if I don't tell her story, no one will know her story again. The passing of the memory fades in the deep darkness. She has gone too far, too far. Among the older Beijingers today, there may still be some who can remember the sensational Peking Opera charity performance of celebrities in the 1940s, or Jin Shunjin who performed in Tsing Yi of Cheng School, and that beautiful and moving woman.At that time, Jin Shunjin won the audience with her exquisite performance, big photos of her were published in the newspapers, and the radio station invited her to sing a cappella. In short, she was very famous and prosperous, and became the pride of the fancier circle for a while.As for Jin Shunjin's future situation, very few people know.A generation of famous tickets has a beginning and an end, and Nantu makes people feel regretful, imperfect and unsatisfied.Out of brotherhood, I have the responsibility to tell her ending in order to give completeness to those who loved her.She has no children, no descendants; she has had short-lived brilliance, and she has had her own fulfillment; she has pursued, struggled, and been disappointed.If she were alive today, she should be a well-achieved artist, a kind and kind old grandmother, she should have a brilliant touch on the Chinese opera stage, and she should have a place in the Jin family.But, nothing.No.The moving melody has disappeared, and there is nowhere to find it in Liuhe, leaving us with nothing but blank space.

She is my own older sister. Although we were not born to the same mother, and although our age gap is so great that we just passed by in the Jin family, the blood is connected after all, and it cannot be separated. During an accidental vacancy process of the Jin family, I picked up a dilapidated playbook in the wing room, which was an old "Lock Scale Bag". Well, she might still be useful there.I was a little bit reluctant, so I took this yellow playbook that had been mostly eaten away by silverfish to the window for a closer look, and found that many places in it had been marked with circles and scales.It can be inferred from the graceful and meticulous lower case script that this must be Da Gege's handwriting, written nearly sixty years ago.The hand marks on the book and the words in the poems are always desolate.

As I flipped through the pages, a fresh fragrance wafted, I couldn't tell whether it came from outside the window or from the book.Looking up, the petals of the elm plum trees under the window have withered, and the fresh green of the crabapple has appeared. The buzzing of bees makes people feel a faint yearning in their chests.Reminiscing about plum events in my hometown, the ancient Yuefu renovates the Yuefu.The Yuefu opened, and the desolate melody overflowed, and in the red rain, Tingting came gracefully and gracefully, Jin Shunjin, the elder of the Jin family, who was beautiful and mournful.