西北有高楼，上与浮云齐。
交疏结绮窗，阿阁三重阶。
上有弦歌声，音响一何悲！
谁能为此曲，无乃杞梁妻。
清商随风发，中曲正徘徊。
一弹再三叹，慷慨有余哀。
不惜歌者苦，但伤知音稀。
愿为双鸿鹄，奋翅起高飞。
A tall tower in the northwest,
tall as floating clouds,
with patterned lattice windows
and a pavilion up three flights of steps
where strings and voices are heard,
a sound so plaintive and bitter.
Who could play and sing a song like this
except the wife of Jiliang?1
Clear autumn sounds blow through the prelude,
then the main melody shifts and varies,
one strike then repeated phrases
with the lingering force of grief.
I don't regret the singer's sorrow,
but mourn how few truly understand her.
If only we were a pair of singing cranes
beating our wings and soaring high!
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