The backstory I launch into, whenever I confess my Chinese TV series binge watching habit, is about as convoluted as a C-drama plot twist itself. Next to that sheepishness, I am basically Maria spinning in a meadow, professing my love for Chinese drama OSTs (original soundtracks): hills might be spared from the sound of my amateur vocal covers, but my poor neighbors’ units are almost certainly not.

“Ordinary Song” (“Xúncháng Gē”) checks all the boxes for a captivating ballade. Every line brims with rich imagery, thanks to the dense syllabic structure of Mandarin: a collage of vivid nouns, juxtaposed without any connectors, spin out from their tight association, expanding into a vast, intricate landscape. Take this line, for instance:

钟声夕阳外，落笔竟无措，
Zhōng shēng xīyáng wài, luòbǐ jìng wú cuò,

Bell + sound + evening + sun + outside, falling + pen + actually + no + measures–>
Beyond the sound of the bell and beyond the sunset, I put pen to paper but am at loss for what to say.

The melody’s soaring outline and swaying rhythm perfectly underscore the lyrical themes, sweeping listeners past language barriers in swirls and eddies of feeling: the triple meter gently propels the melody’s climb across D minor; the Dorian mode progression passes the baton to melodic minor in key moments, to get that heart-tugging leading C# leading tone.

Finally, the process of unpacking the layers of meaning unveils a wealth of cultural and historical insights. To learn this song, in particular, is to begin to wade into the riddles of Buddhism and Daoism, to dip a toe into Chinese metaphysics broadly speaking: the ephemerality of life; the still heart amidst emotional tumult; the cyclical nature of time. At one point, the singer asks, How can we bear to survive each departure? The answer recalls T.S. Eliot’s “still point of the turning world”: from there, look at all of history, and see every frame of the Archive (Lan Tai — a historical metonym here) displayed all at once.

风雨伸手遮，永别如何捱过
Fēngyǔ shēnshǒu zhē, yǒng bié rúhé áiguò?
Hand outstretched to take cover from the wind and rain; how can this eternal farewell be survived?

走马去兰台，灯火连天阔，
Zǒumǎ qù lán tái, dēnghuǒ liántiān kuò
Let’s walk to Lantai [the palace archives in the Han Dynasty; now, a way to refer to history and historians]; lights are stretched across the vast sky. 

看不见悲欢离合
Kàn bùjiàn bēihuānlíhé
We can’t see Sorrow, Joy, Separation, Reunion from there.

The nature of change is unchanging.

LYRICS:

A1

书致故乡人，十二年春已过
Shū zhì gùxiāng rén, shí’èr niánchūn yǐguò
I write a letter to the people of my hometown; twelve years have passed since spring.

万事逐流去，也顺遂也蹉跎
Wànshì zhú liú qù, yě shùnsuì yě cuōtuó
Everything has flowed away; smoothly, carelessly.

路比岁月长，心事更无从说
Lù bǐ suìyuè cháng, xīnshì gèng wúcóng shuō.
The road is longer than the years, to say nothing of the matters of the heart.

钟声夕阳外，落笔竟无措，
Zhōng shēng xīyáng wài, luòbǐ jìng wú cuò,
Beyond the sound of the bell and beyond the sunset, I put pen to paper but am at loss for what to say.

只敢问春风如何
Zhǐ gǎn wèn chūnfēng rúhé
I only dare to ask, How is the spring breeze?

A2

昨夜梦回中，推窗见小村落
Zuóyè mèng huí zhōng, tuī chuāng jiàn xiǎo cūnluò
In my dream last night, I opened the window and saw a small village.

童言说无忌，拥身坐看天河
Tóng yánshuō wú jì, yōng shēn zuò kàn tiānhé
Children babbled without restraint, sitting and gazing at the Milky Way.

枯荣青草地，故人音容在侧
Kūróng qīngcǎo dì, gùrén yīnróng zài cè
The grassland withers, the grassland blooms–the voice of an old friend stays by my side.

落木萧萧下，合眼见神佛，
Luòmù xiāoxiāo xià, hé yǎnjiàn shén fú,
Leaves rustle to the ground. Eyes closed, I see the gods and Buddhas,

痛快痛恨都照彻
Tòngkuài tònghèn dōu zhào chè
Happiness, hatred–they all become light.

B1

桃花都吹落，春秋都吹落
Táohuā doū chuī luò, chūnqiū dōu chuī luò.
The peach blossom flowers have fallen away. Spring and autumn have fallen away.

最懂竟是梦中那一刻
Zuì dǒng jìng shì mèng zhōng nà yīkè
It turns out that what I understand the most was a moment in a dream.

长生长漂泊，复醒复作客
Cháng shēng cháng piāobó, fù xǐng fù zuòkè
A long, long life of wandering; I reawaken and become a guest again.

年头年尾各自活
Niántóu nián wěi gèzì huó
The beginning of the year; the end of the year–each unfolds separate from the other.

遍地又如何，春光又如何
Biàndì yòu rúhé, chūnguāng yòu rúhé
So what, if there’s the whole world? So what, if there’s the spring light?

纷纷求不得
Fēnfēn qiú bùdé
Nothing at all can be requested.

“所幸”不过是，寻常人间事
“Suǒxìng” bùguò shì, xúncháng rénjiān shì
“Fortunately” is merely an ordinary mortal affair.

作首寻常歌
Zuò shǒu xúncháng gē
Make an ordinary song.

A3

如今太平世，繁华里空消磨
Rújīn tàipíng shì, fánhuá lǐ kōng xiāomó
Now, the world is peaceful; in the bustling city, I kill the empty hours.

说到头还是，旧红尘看不破
Shuō dàotóu háishì, jiù hóngchén kàn bùpò
In the end, the Old Red Dust [Buddhist term for the world of mortals] cannot be seen through.

风雨伸手遮，永别如何捱过
Fēngyǔ shēnshǒu zhē, yǒng bié rúhé áiguò?
Hand outstretched to take cover from the wind and rain; how can this eternal farewell be survived?

走马去兰台，灯火连天阔，
Zǒumǎ qù lán tái, dēnghuǒ liántiān kuò
Let’s walk to Lantai [the palace archives in the Han Dynasty; now, a way to refer to history and historians]; lights are stretched across the vast sky. 

看不见悲欢离合
Kàn bùjiàn bēihuānlíhé
We can’t see Sorrow, Joy, Separation, Reunion from there.

B2 (B1)

B3

也只能懂得，永不会懂得
Yě zhǐ néng dǒngdé, yǒng bù huì dǒngdé
I can only understand, that I’ll never understand.

流离失所 却 不动声色
Liúlíshīsuǒ què bù dòng shēngsè
Everything is in flux; everything leaves, is lost; but one remains unperturbed.

所以多少人，满堂欢声里
Suǒyǐ duōshǎo rén, mǎntáng huānshēng lǐ
So, how many people, in the crowded hall of happy sounds…

凝望着酒杯沉默
Níngwàngzhe jiǔbēi chénmò
…stare at their wine glass in silence?

遍地又如何，春光又如何
Biàndì yòu rúhé, chūnguāng yòu rúhé
So what, if there’s the whole world? So what, if there’s the spring light?

纷纷求不得
Fēnfēn qiú bùdé
Nothing at all can be requested.

“所幸”不过是，寻常人间事
“Suǒxìng” bùguò shì, xúncháng rénjiān shì
“Fortunately” is merely an ordinary mortal affair.

作首寻常歌
Zuò shǒu xúncháng gē
Make an ordinary song.