ghostlord: (flute)
Wen Kexing ([personal profile] ghostlord) wrote in [community profile] etraya2025-08-20 09:20 am

[UN: philanthropist | Text → Audio]

[Kexing is in the mood for poetry and so he shares!]

Tides of the spring river washes into the levelled ocean,

And with the tide, a luminous moon is born above sea surface.

Shimmering with the waves for thousands of li,

Where is there no moonlight gracing this spring river!?



The river snakes around the lush green fields,

Moon shining upon the flower filled forest, making all appear like sleet.

Flowing frost from the sky appears not to be drifting,

The white sand of river banks cannot be seen.



River and sky becomes one, with not the finest of dust,

Shining brightly in the sky is that lone wheel of a moon.

By this riverside, what person was first to see the moon?

This river’s moon, what year did it first shine upon the people?



Generations after generations of human life, not at all does it depletes,

The river’s moon is still the same year after year.

It is unknown for who this river’s moon awaits for,

Only seeing this long river sending off its flowing water.



A spread of white clouds vaguely fades far into the distance,

Such unbearable sorrows of parting by Qing Feng Riverside.

Which family’s little boat is drifting along the rivers tonight? (Referring to a man out journeying)

Where is the yearning love in the moonlit tower? (Referring to his wife’s longing for him at home)



Pitiful it is, the lingering moonlight illuminating the tower,

It should be reflecting the one who left in the dresser table mirror.

Unable to roll it away from the jade-like chamber with the closing of blinds,

Brushed away on the clothes pounding stone it is, but still comes back.

(The moon shines in as though it understands the pain of longing, but should the moon really understand her sorrows then it should let the lady see her lover in the mirror to ease her longing, instead its lingering presence only adds to her yearnings)



In this moment, both gazes at the moon, but unable they are to hear each other,

Only wishing the brilliance of the moon is shining upon the dear husband.

Swans and geese flies long distances but cannot fly beyond the light,

Fishes and [marine] reptiles dives and jumps but only forms ripples in the water.

(Swans and geese and fly far but cannot fly to him, fishes and marine reptiles can swim deep into the water but cannot swim to him)



Dreaming of flowers descending upon the tranquil pool last night,

Pitiful it is, half of spring has past yet there is still no return.

The running river water flowing by, along with spring,

Into the river pool, the descending moon goes, tilting west again.



The setting moon hiding deeply into the ocean mist,

Jie Shi and Xiao Xiang, the distance between is infinite. (One place south, one place north, rendering a reunion hopeless)

It is unknown how many people managed to return home riding the moonlight,

Only knowing the descending moon stirs immense emotions amongst the trees by the riverbank.



I am homesick. I left a daughter behind and a whole valley. Can you believe it? I'm much too young for the burden of single parenthood! Not to mention the plague of lordship.

However I know I'm not alone and so I'm here to offer you some art. Take a moment to rest your mind and body. The problems that face us will remain the same whether you worry about them now or later.


[And thus he performs on his flute. The song is sad, full of longing and yet hopeful nonetheless, mirroring his stubborn resolve that somehow, some way, things will work out for them. Or, at least, for him and A-Xu.]
repaintress: by betenoir (7)

[personal profile] repaintress 2025-08-21 01:13 am (UTC)(link)
Not even your A Xu?

Women are cruel in different ways, but just as dangerous if one is unaware. I imagine there are cruelties between men to which we are not privy.


[ She pauses at the request. Humming is not sufficient, and yet... she has not sung for some time. The idea stings her heart, but it always will. Music will never again be pure joy; it will always have a tinge of melancholy. ]

You will forgive me for being out of practice, monsieur.

[ And so she sings. As indicated, her voice is out of practice, but its rendition of Berlioz and Gautier's 'Sur les lagunes: Lamento' is clearly a trained one. It's far from her best, but it is serviceable, and she finds the melancholic nature of the lament to suit well her current state of mind. She leans into the sorrow music has for her now rather than run from it, imbuing the song more truly with the emotions it is meant to convey: of losing one most dear to you and continuing upon the cold seas of life alone. ]

A flute is a common accompaniment.
repaintress: by betenoir (Shadow1)

[personal profile] repaintress 2025-08-21 01:10 pm (UTC)(link)
The world does not ask before forcing its choices upon you.

[ His phrasing is answer enough: It's good the girl is being taught to exist on her own. ]

You would have hated my brother.

[ He'd had no interest in power, but if he was breathing there were fair odds he was lying about something. 'Honesty' had not been one of his virtues. Exhausting and ridiculous.

'Fine' is indeed how Clea would characterize her impromptu performance. Which is garbage, but it is all he has for reference.

"Again." She can hear him say it in her mind, just as he does while instructing. And, as she does there, Clea obliges. Again it will be.

This time, the performance starts stronger: Clea's warmed up and has more confidence in her voice, wielding it as the instrument it is, effortlessly rising and falling with elegance. And yet, part way through, she begins to slip. She pauses when she should not, notes come a beat too late, her voice is throatier than it should be. She recovers by the end of the song, embarrassed that the unexpected emotions had ruined the effort. ]


Apologies.

It is a shame that there is not an orchestra, or at least more musicians, in this place.