University of Phonaing - The Night of the Dead

(1)

A small, thin man, like his songs, and as frail as he could be, Yenntha Ko Soe Hlaing, who could not bear the harsh weather, arrived in Taunggyi in the cold December winter. When he arrived, Ko Luman Naung, who had been separated from me since we left school, and who is now a nationally renowned writer, was also waiting at my house.

Ko Soe Hlaing also brought a song that was as deep and cool as a winter night. The song's name was "Night."

One night, while the snowdrops were dancing in the moonlight outside the house, Soe Hlaing and I were sitting by the fireplace, smelling of pine oil, and a friend and student, the former president of the Mandalay University Artists' Association, who had come to my house to rest for a while.

Ko Tin Maung Myint and his wife are planning to broadcast the song “Nya” on Thazin.

Ko Soe Hlaing originally composed the song with (5) pauk. Ko Tin Maung Myint and I thought it was too simple. Then

Ko Soe Hlaing tried a strange sound sequence with a (4) downbeat.

"Ha... yes, the song's theme and melody are catchy."

Ko Soe Hlaing, as usual, batted his eyelashes under his glasses, swayed one leg and played the mandolin. Ko Tin Maung Myint closed his eyes and seemed to be listening to the melody. When the melody ended, he commented, “Yes, it’s better with this sound.”

Until now, Ko Luan Naung had been staring at the flickering flames in the fireplace, barely noticing a cigarette. It was only when Ko Tin Maung Myint made a comment that he asked.

"The melody is quite beautiful. I think it's more heart-wrenching than beautiful. What's the name of the song?"

I replied.

"Night"

A subtle but noticeable change swept over Ko Lumanaw's face.

"Ah... "night"?"

“Yes... Ko Myint Thein composed the lyrics for the song based on Tagore's poem "Night".”

"Who is Ko Myint Thein?"

“We are friends. I don’t have a pen name yet. I write poems called Pyinmana Maung Yi Naung. My job is as an agricultural officer. You must have heard of Ko Soe Hlaing’s work, “Khaung Aung Myay,” which you call Tin Tin Mya. The lyrics in it were written by Ko Myint Thein.”

"Ha... Then it would be a good song. I'm interested in the name "Night"."

“Why are you interested in this name, Ko Luman Naung?”

“I was thinking of writing a novel called Nya. My friend Maung Moe Thu has already written a novel with that name. His novel is also quite good, but the Nya he means is one way, the Nya I mean is another way, oh... I don’t know if I should say it’s a homonym.”

Ko Tin Maung Myint looked at him and gave him advice.

“So, let’s do this, write another song called My Life is Like a Night”

Ko Luman Naung's eyes, covered in sorrow, lost their color.

"My life is like a night sky." This name is very good.

(1)

A small, thin man, like his songs, and as frail as he could be, Yenntha Ko Soe Hlaing, who could not bear the harsh weather, arrived in Taunggyi in the cold December winter. When he arrived, Ko Luman Naung, who had been separated from me since we left school, and who is now a nationally renowned writer, was also waiting at my house.

Ko Soe Hlaing also brought a song that was as deep and cool as a winter night. The song's name was "Night."

One night, while the snowdrops were dancing in the moonlight outside the house, Soe Hlaing and I were sitting by the fireplace, smelling of pine oil, and a friend and student, the former president of the Mandalay University Artists' Association, who had come to my house to rest for a while.

Ko Tin Maung Myint and his wife are planning to broadcast the song “Nya” on Thazin.

Ko Soe Hlaing originally composed the song with (5) pauk. Ko Tin Maung Myint and I thought it was too simple. Then

Ko Soe Hlaing tried a strange sound sequence with a (4) downbeat.

"Ha... yes, the song's theme and melody are catchy."

Ko Soe Hlaing, as usual, batted his eyelashes under his glasses, swayed one leg, and played the mandolin. Ko Tin Maung Myint closed his eyes and seemed to be gazing out into the distance, his mind racing.

It's the same. When the song ended, he commented, "Yes, it sounds better with this sound."

Until now, Ko Luan Naung had been staring at the flickering flames in the fireplace, barely noticing a cigarette. It was only when Ko Tin Maung Myint made a comment that he asked.

"The melody is quite beautiful. I think it's more heart-wrenching than beautiful. What's the name of the song?"

I replied.

"Night"

A subtle but noticeable change swept over Ko Lumanaw's face.

"Ah... "night"?"

“Yes... Ko Myint Thein composed the lyrics for the song based on Tagore's poem "Night".”

"Who is Ko Myint Thein?"

“We are friends. I don’t have a pen name yet. I write poems called Pyinmana Maung Yi Naung. My job is as an agricultural officer. You must have heard of Ko Soe Hlaing’s work, “Khaung Aung Myay,” which you call Tin Tin Mya. The lyrics in it were written by Ko Myint Thein.”

"Ha... Then it would be a good song. I'm interested in the name "Night"."

“Why are you interested in this name, Ko Luman Naung?”

“I was thinking of writing a novel called Nya. My friend Maung Moe Thu has already written a novel with that name. His novel is also quite good, but the Nya he means is one way, the Nya I mean is another way, oh... I don’t know if I should say it’s a homonym.”

Ko Tin Maung Myint looked at him and gave him advice.

“So, let’s do this, write another song called My Life is Like a Night”

Ko Luman Naung's eyes, covered in sorrow, lost their color.

"My life is like a night sky." This name is very good.

(1)

A small, thin man, like his songs, and as frail as he could be, Yenntha Ko Soe Hlaing, who could not bear the harsh weather, arrived in Taunggyi in the cold December winter. When he arrived, Ko Luman Naung, who had been separated from me since we left school, and who is now a nationally renowned writer, was also waiting at my house.

Ko Soe Hlaing also brought a song that was as deep and cool as a winter night. The song's name was "Night."

One night, while the snowdrops were dancing in the moonlight outside the house, Soe Hlaing and I were sitting by the fireplace, smelling of pine oil, and a friend and student, the former president of the Mandalay University Artists' Association, who had come to my house to rest for a while.

Ko Tin Maung Myint and his wife are planning to broadcast the song “Nya” on Thazin.

Ko Soe Hlaing originally composed the song with (5) pauk. Ko Tin Maung Myint and I thought it was too simple. Then

Ko Soe Hlaing tried a strange sound sequence with a (4) downbeat.

"Ha... yes, the song's theme and melody are catchy."

Ko Soe Hlaing, as usual, batted his eyelashes under his glasses, swayed one leg, and played the mandolin. Ko Tin Maung Myint closed his eyes and seemed to be gazing out into the distance, his mind racing.

It's the same. When the song ended, he commented, "Yes, it sounds better with this sound."

Until now, Ko Luan Naung had been staring at the flickering flames in the fireplace, barely noticing a cigarette. It was only when Ko Tin Maung Myint made a comment that he asked.

"The melody is quite beautiful. I think it's more heart-wrenching than beautiful. What's the name of the song?"

I replied.

"Night"

A subtle but noticeable change swept over Ko Lumanaw's face.

"Ah... "night"?"

“Yes... Ko Myint Thein composed the lyrics for the song based on Tagore's poem "Night".”

"Who is Ko Myint Thein?"

“We are friends. I don’t have a pen name yet. I write poems called Pyinmana Maung Yi Naung. My job is as an agricultural officer. You must have heard of Ko Soe Hlaing’s work, “Khaung Aung Myay,” which you call Tin Tin Mya. The lyrics in it were written by Ko Myint Thein.”

"Ha... Then it would be a good song. I'm interested in the name "Night"."

“Why are you interested in this name, Ko Luman Naung?”

“I was thinking of writing a novel called Nya. My friend Maung Moe Thu has already written a novel with that name. His novel is also quite good, but the Nya he means is one way, the Nya I mean is another way, oh... I don’t know if I should say it’s a homonym.”

Ko Tin Maung Myint looked at him and gave him advice.

“So, let’s do this, write another song called My Life is Like a Night”

Ko Luman Naung's eyes, covered in sorrow, lost their color.

"My life is like a night sky." This name is very good.

"Now... you guys sing."

Ko Soe Hlaing looked at me and asked.

“Are you satisfied with the lyrics, sir? Ko Myint Thein ordered them. Please correct them if you think they need to be corrected.”

“Yes, I want to fix three places.” “Which places?”

"The clouds are covered with the autumn colors, and the stars are like silver, and the beauty of the sky is like silver."

"Why, teacher?"

“It seems like Karen is being stubborn. I don’t like the phrase “Ryong Lwin Ma Maung.” I’ll change it to “Tim Thar Pyay Shin, T’ayan Linsa, Y’el Min Tha Ma, Ngha Ngwe Sai.” That way, the first sentence will be consistent with the second sentence.”

Ko Soe Hlaing nodded in agreement. Then he urged, “Continue, teacher.”

"I bought a palace in the sun, and that's also a mistake. Instead, I'll change it to "I bought a palace in the sun, and that's a mistake."

"And then?"

“I think the words are too harsh for a man to sing, and the whole song emphasizes the metaphor, and I don’t like the direct lyrics where tears are shed.”

"I've done it, so how can the teacher shed tears like this?"

“Yes, I don’t have the courage to sing a song with tears in it, but I have the courage to sing a song like ‘Don’t cry, teacher.’ I feel like a butterfly, and I feel like a butterfly, teacher. Now, how do I change the lyrics?”

“I don’t know if the meanings are too secret, but I want to correct them like this. You are the one who is the dust of the world, the north wind, the heart of the world, what do you think, Ko Luman Naung?”

Ko Luam Naung's face turned gloomy.

"The north wind is blowing. What do you mean by the snow that is falling from the sky, Ko Pho Naing? I don't think it's tears, okay?"

I didn't answer him, I just smiled.

I picked up the string, and Ko Tin Maung Myint took the violin and tuned it to Ko Soe Hlaing's mandolin. When everyone was ready, Ko Soe Hlaing said while playing the mandolin.

"The misty sky... the waves of silver... the mist of the moon, the vast expanse of the sky... the clouds, the temporary light, the king of stars... the beauty of silver... the world's own beginning."

Winter...Choose, the middle of the machine room...For example, the life of the mountain is hidden like the night...”

If you notice the sound of the winter wind outside, you can hear it. In the night, covered with snow and mist, the beautiful flowers of the city of flowers, the night's love, are refreshed and ready to shine in the palace of the world tomorrow. When these beautiful flowers come together and celebrate, it is only the day that belongs to the sun, so there is no room for the night to cool them with snow and sweeten them with the gentle breeze.

“Night is coming... I am buying a field of land that is more peaceful... I am buying a moment before dawn... I am buying a palace of the day that is surrounded by darkness, I am waiting for you, I am not proud, I am hiding from the enemy, I am not afraid, I am not afraid of others, I am not afraid of the night that is left behind... I am leaving it and it is night.”

The gardener is the one who makes a flower beautiful. When the time is right and the flower blooms well, the one who is ready to take care of it is often someone else. This inconvenient nature is revealed by “Night”.

"I was young... I was in love with you when I was in my teens... I was lost in thought... I was exhausted... My life was truly like the night, the north wind... the dust of the world... I could have left you as my husband instead of me..."

The song returns to the verse of the night. (Leaving the night, saying "night is over"), ending with the verse

There was a distinct hint of crying in Ko Soe Hlaing's voice. We were all satisfied.

We have a habit. When we create a work of art, we often feel light inside. At that time, we wake up feeling light and refreshed. No matter how late at night, we don't want to sleep anymore.

The night of the city of Kanbawza, where every flower blooms and every blooming flower smells sweet, is too beautiful to be spent in a daze of sleep.

We went out for a walk. Ko Soe Hlaing, who was cold, followed me, wearing my long woolen coat and walking along.

My house is located at the foot of the hill, which is the most beautiful and pleasant place in Taunggyi. If you walk slowly from my house to the foot of the hill, it will take you about five minutes.

We walked along the path towards the eastern foothills. In the moonlight, we noticed that the cherry trees were just beginning to bloom. The scent of pine trees was lingering.

We walked along the path that wound around the foot of the mountain, past the Government House. We passed through a forest of tall pine trees and past the String Hotel. Soon we were in front of