In 2004, I traveled to China to visit Anping, the source of 99% of the world's bow hair. I also visited several violin factories in Heibei province and Beijing. It was at one of those visits that I chanced to meet a middle aged violinist who shared a portion of The Butterfly Lovers song with me. I, of course, shared Ashokan Farewell with him. This is that song.
#China #Anping #ButterflyLovers #AshokanFarewell #Fiddles
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Verse 1 I flew east on bow-hair business, a handshake down in Anping, then a week of factory floors where the white horses sing, through the workshops of Hebei where the varnish dries like rain, nine Birds'eye violas waiting for an E to make them sing again.
Verse 2 In a sales manager's office I was trying every one, and a quiet middle-aged man had come in with his own, no language between us but the four strings on the wood, so I picked one up and drew a bow across the mood.
Chorus He played the Butterfly Lovers, the tune his people know, and I answered with a Farewell from a mountain valley show, two melodies like ferries from opposite shores at dawn, and we met in the middle of a room in Beijing, gone.
Verse 3 Nobody wrote it down and nobody took a photo, just a stranger and a fiddler grinning at a note, the kind of thing you'd never plan, you couldn't even try: every fiddle in the factory stopped to see us by.
Outro Now the bow hair's from Anping and the violas came home, and there's a phrase I keep in Chinese, one I'll never say alone, for when the bow meets the string and the tune begins to climb, we were both amazed and pleased, and we both were on time.
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