Vocal Strings

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• published: 13 May 2013
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Representing the leading edge of China's avant garde, experimental creatrix Liu Sola and avant musician Liu Yijun close the celebration with a dynamic performance. Translations: THE BROKEN ZITHER (1994, Blues in the East) THE APPOINTMENT WITH ZIQI Time passed quickly. Winter followed autumn, and before you noticed spring was over, summer had arrived. Boya thought about Ziqi and began to grow restless. As the mid-Autumn festival drew near, he packed to travel by boat, setting out on the night of the moon Festival. The two friends had agreed to meet each other again at the same spot where they had met the year before and it was here that Boya moored his boat. It was a clear night. Boya went out of his cabin, stood on the bow and looked up at the stars. He was struck by the vast expanse of river and sky. He thought: "It was last year that I met my bosom friend. Why is there no trace of him now? Will he not keep his word?" He ordered his servant to place the zither on the bow and burn incense. He started to tune the zither but felt that the strings sounded very melancholy. "Something unfortunate must have happened to my brother," he thought. "Tomorrow morning I must search for him." He did not sleep the whole night, and watched the moon wander across the sky and the sunrise from behind the mountains. Then he washed and dressed and went into the mountains. At the mountains he paused, waiting to ask his way. Presently an old man appeared and Boya went up to him. "Who are you looking for?" the old man asked. Boya replied: "I'm looking for Ziqi." On hearing that name, the old man started to cry. "Ziqi is my son. At last year's Moon Festival, he came home late because he had met Yu Boya. They became bosom friends. The master gave him money to carry on his studies. But cutting wood by day and reading by night quite exhausted his heart's energies. He fell seriously ill and then he died." BOYA'S LAMENT Oh brother, when I moored my boat last night, I thought you had forgotten your promise. I did not realize you had already become a ghost. You had such a big talent and such a short life. Brother, you lived a life of such intelligence that, after death, the gods will surely appreciate you. I bow to bid you a final farewell. " BROKEN THE ZITHER In last year's spring, we met by the river. Today I return to find, not my bosom friend. But a cup of dust! So sadness fills my heart, Sadness, sadness, and more sadness, tears fall without cease. The happier the meeting, the more bitter the separation! Sad clouds rise up from the river, Ziqi! Ziqi! We had a golden friendship Which would take longer than history to describe! I will never play this song again, The Zither has to die for you.