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郎朗是大家心中的音乐天才，可他的成功也是靠自己的不断努力和坚持取得的。请大家一同来倾听郎朗讲述他的故事。
我小时候在中国的沈阳市生活，每天都花6个小时练习弹钢琴。我喜欢这种乐器。一开始我弹的钢琴是国产的，样子笨重但却便宜，是我们能买得起的最好的钢琴。
后来我父母给我买了一架瑞典钢琴，于是我就用这架钢琴练习柴可夫斯基的曲子，可是半数的琴弦都弹断了。这时我父母和老师都认为这样的乐器以及我的家乡已经不再适合我了。要成为一名真正的音乐家，我得去我们的文化之都——北京。那年我才8岁。
我的父亲弹奏一种二弦乐器——二胡，他为我做出了巨大的牺牲。为了带我到北京，他辞去了自己热爱的首席乐师的工作，我的母亲则留在沈阳的科研所继续工作以维持我们的生活。
突然间父亲和我成了“新移民”——外地人。对周围的人来说，我们说话带着滑稽的北方口音。
我们的钱不多，只能租得起没有供暖的居民楼，与5家共用一个卫生间。
我父亲做饭、打扫卫生还照顾我。他基本上成了一个“家庭主妇”。
我们的住处离学校很远，乘公交车太贵，父亲就每天“驾驶”自行车送我去学琴，单程就需要一个半小时，我当时还很胖，体重比我现在还重。在冬天他也是这样，真不敢想象啊！
当我在数九寒天的夜里练琴时，父亲就躺在我的床上，这样等我累了就可以睡在暖和的被窝里了。
我那时的心情很糟糕，并不是因为贫困或压力，而是因为我在北京的新老师不喜欢我。“你没有天赋，”她经常对我说，“你永远成不了钢琴家。”一天，她把我“开除”了。
我当时才9岁，这对我的打击太大了。我决定不要当什么钢琴家了。我想回家，我想妈妈。接下来的两个星期我都没有碰钢琴。
我父亲很明智，并没有强迫我，只是在等我回心转意。
果不其然，一天上学，老师叫我演奏一些节日的曲子。我本来不想弹，但当手指一碰到琴键时，我就意识到我能向别人展示自己，我是有天赋的。
那天我告诉父亲他一直在等待的那句话——我想跟一个新老师学琴。从那一刻起，一切都有了转机。
我开始在多项比赛上获奖。我很快就清晰地意识到：我不能永远呆在中国。要想成为世界级的音乐家，就必须在世界的大舞台上演奏。
所以，在1997年，父亲和我又一次搬迁，这次搬到了费城，我在那里的柯蒂斯音乐学院求学。我们终于不用再为钱伤神了。学院出钱为我租了公寓，甚至借给我一架施坦威钢琴。在夜里我会悄悄溜进起居室，只为摸摸琴键。
既然来到美国，我就想成名，但是我的新老师们提醒我还有很多东西需要学。
我练了两年的琴，到1999年我已苦练到时来运转的程度。芝加哥交响乐团听了我的演奏，很欣赏我，但是乐团的表演日程是提前安排好的。
我认为得过几年才能加入这个乐团。
第二天早上我接到了一个电话。著名钢琴演奏家安德烈·沃茨身体不适，他本来要在芝加哥拉维尼亚音乐节演奏“节日义演之夜”。
乐团叫我去顶替他。那场演出铸就了我的辉煌。小提琴演奏家艾萨克·斯特恩把我介绍给了听众，我演奏了柴可夫斯基的《第一钢琴协奏曲》。
从开始演奏到曲终，我父亲一直乐得嘴都合不拢。之后人们就开始庆祝——可能他们有点醉了——还让我演奏巴赫的《哥德堡变奏曲》。
于是我弹到了凌晨3点半。我感到有了某种突破。果然，演奏的工作机会不断涌来，林肯中心、卡内基音乐厅。可是我父亲仍然告诫我：“你要多练习！”
As a boy growing up in Shenyang， China， I practiced the piano six hours a day. I loved the instrument. At first I played on clunky Chinese keyboards — cheap， but the best we could afford.
Later my parents bought me a Swedish piano， but I broke half the strings on it playing Tchaikovsky. That’s when my parents and my teacher decided I was too much for such an instrument — and for our hometown. To be a serious musician， I would have to move to Beijing， our cultural capital. I was just eight years old.
My father， who played the erhu， a two- stringed instrument， made a great sacrifice. To relocate to Beijing with me， he quit his concertmaster’s job， which he loved， and my mother stayed behind in Shenyang to keep working at her job at the science institute to support us.
Suddenly my father and I were newcomers— outsiders. To the others around us， we spoke with funny northern accents.
The only apartment we could find for the money we had was in an unheated building， with five families sharing one bathroom. My father cooked， cleaned and looked after me. He became a housewife， basically.
We lived far from my school， and since the bus was too expensive， my father would “drive” me on his bicycle every day. It was a one-hour-and-a-half trip each way， and I was a heavy boy， much heavier than I am as an adult. He did this in winter too. Imagine！
During the coldest nights， while I practiced piano， my father lay in my bed so it would be warm when I was tired.
I was miserable， but not from the poverty or pressure. My new teacher in Beijing didn’t like me.“You have no talent，” she often told me， “You will never be a pianist.”And one day， she “fired” me.
I was just nine years old. I was devastated. I didn’t want to be a pianist anymore， I decided. I wanted to go home to my mother. For the next two weeks I didn’t touch the piano.
Wisely， my father didn’t push. He just waited.
Sure enough， the day came at school when my teacher asked me to play some holiday songs. I didn’t want to， but as I placed my fingers on the piano’s keys， I realized I could show other people that I had talent after all.
That day I told my father what he’d been waiting to hear — that I wanted to study with a new teacher. From that point on， everything turned around.
I started winning competitions. It was soon clear I couldn’t stay in China forever. To become a world-class musician， I had to play on the world’s big stages.
So in 1997， my father and I moved again， this time to Philadelphia， so I could attend The Curtis Institute of Music. Finally our money worries were easing. The school paid for an apartment and even lent me a Steinway. At night， I would sneak into the living room just to touch the keys.
Now that I was in America， I wanted to become famous， but my new teachers reminded me that I had a lot to learn.
I spent two years practicing， and by 1999 I had worked hard enough for fortune to take over. The Chicago Symphony Orchestra heard me play and liked me， but orchestra schedules were set far in advance.
I thought I might join them in a few years.
The next morning， I got a call. The great pianist Andre Watts， who was to play the “Gala Benefit Evening” at Chicago’s Ravinia Festival， had become ill.
I was asked to substitute. That performance was， for me， the moment. After violinist Isaac Stern introduced me， I played Tchaikovsky’s Piano Concerto No.1.
My father’s mouth hung open throughout the entire song. Afterward， people celebrated — maybe they were a bit drunk — and asked me to play Bach’s Goldberg Variations.
So I played until 3：30 a.m. I felt something happening. Sure enough， gigs started pouring in.Lincoln Center， Carnegie Hall. Still， my father kept telling me，“You’d better practice！”
我小时候在中国的沈阳市生活，每天都花6个小时练习弹钢琴。我喜欢这种乐器。一开始我弹的钢琴是国产的，样子笨重但却便宜，是我们能买得起的最好的钢琴。
后来我父母给我买了一架瑞典钢琴，于是我就用这架钢琴练习柴可夫斯基的曲子，可是半数的琴弦都弹断了。这时我父母和老师都认为这样的乐器以及我的家乡已经不再适合我了。要成为一名真正的音乐家，我得去我们的文化之都——北京。那年我才8岁。
我的父亲弹奏一种二弦乐器——二胡，他为我做出了巨大的牺牲。为了带我到北京，他辞去了自己热爱的首席乐师的工作，我的母亲则留在沈阳的科研所继续工作以维持我们的生活。
突然间父亲和我成了“新移民”——外地人。对周围的人来说，我们说话带着滑稽的北方口音。
我们的钱不多，只能租得起没有供暖的居民楼，与5家共用一个卫生间。
我父亲做饭、打扫卫生还照顾我。他基本上成了一个“家庭主妇”。
我们的住处离学校很远，乘公交车太贵，父亲就每天“驾驶”自行车送我去学琴，单程就需要一个半小时，我当时还很胖，体重比我现在还重。在冬天他也是这样，真不敢想象啊！
当我在数九寒天的夜里练琴时，父亲就躺在我的床上，这样等我累了就可以睡在暖和的被窝里了。
我那时的心情很糟糕，并不是因为贫困或压力，而是因为我在北京的新老师不喜欢我。“你没有天赋，”她经常对我说，“你永远成不了钢琴家。”一天，她把我“开除”了。
我当时才9岁，这对我的打击太大了。我决定不要当什么钢琴家了。我想回家，我想妈妈。接下来的两个星期我都没有碰钢琴。
我父亲很明智，并没有强迫我，只是在等我回心转意。
果不其然，一天上学，老师叫我演奏一些节日的曲子。我本来不想弹，但当手指一碰到琴键时，我就意识到我能向别人展示自己，我是有天赋的。
那天我告诉父亲他一直在等待的那句话——我想跟一个新老师学琴。从那一刻起，一切都有了转机。
我开始在多项比赛上获奖。我很快就清晰地意识到：我不能永远呆在中国。要想成为世界级的音乐家，就必须在世界的大舞台上演奏。
所以，在1997年，父亲和我又一次搬迁，这次搬到了费城，我在那里的柯蒂斯音乐学院求学。我们终于不用再为钱伤神了。学院出钱为我租了公寓，甚至借给我一架施坦威钢琴。在夜里我会悄悄溜进起居室，只为摸摸琴键。
既然来到美国，我就想成名，但是我的新老师们提醒我还有很多东西需要学。
我练了两年的琴，到1999年我已苦练到时来运转的程度。芝加哥交响乐团听了我的演奏，很欣赏我，但是乐团的表演日程是提前安排好的。
我认为得过几年才能加入这个乐团。
第二天早上我接到了一个电话。著名钢琴演奏家安德烈·沃茨身体不适，他本来要在芝加哥拉维尼亚音乐节演奏“节日义演之夜”。
乐团叫我去顶替他。那场演出铸就了我的辉煌。小提琴演奏家艾萨克·斯特恩把我介绍给了听众，我演奏了柴可夫斯基的《第一钢琴协奏曲》。
从开始演奏到曲终，我父亲一直乐得嘴都合不拢。之后人们就开始庆祝——可能他们有点醉了——还让我演奏巴赫的《哥德堡变奏曲》。
于是我弹到了凌晨3点半。我感到有了某种突破。果然，演奏的工作机会不断涌来，林肯中心、卡内基音乐厅。可是我父亲仍然告诫我：“你要多练习！”
As a boy growing up in Shenyang， China， I practiced the piano six hours a day. I loved the instrument. At first I played on clunky Chinese keyboards — cheap， but the best we could afford.
Later my parents bought me a Swedish piano， but I broke half the strings on it playing Tchaikovsky. That’s when my parents and my teacher decided I was too much for such an instrument — and for our hometown. To be a serious musician， I would have to move to Beijing， our cultural capital. I was just eight years old.
My father， who played the erhu， a two- stringed instrument， made a great sacrifice. To relocate to Beijing with me， he quit his concertmaster’s job， which he loved， and my mother stayed behind in Shenyang to keep working at her job at the science institute to support us.
Suddenly my father and I were newcomers— outsiders. To the others around us， we spoke with funny northern accents.
The only apartment we could find for the money we had was in an unheated building， with five families sharing one bathroom. My father cooked， cleaned and looked after me. He became a housewife， basically.
We lived far from my school， and since the bus was too expensive， my father would “drive” me on his bicycle every day. It was a one-hour-and-a-half trip each way， and I was a heavy boy， much heavier than I am as an adult. He did this in winter too. Imagine！
During the coldest nights， while I practiced piano， my father lay in my bed so it would be warm when I was tired.
I was miserable， but not from the poverty or pressure. My new teacher in Beijing didn’t like me.“You have no talent，” she often told me， “You will never be a pianist.”And one day， she “fired” me.
I was just nine years old. I was devastated. I didn’t want to be a pianist anymore， I decided. I wanted to go home to my mother. For the next two weeks I didn’t touch the piano.
Wisely， my father didn’t push. He just waited.
Sure enough， the day came at school when my teacher asked me to play some holiday songs. I didn’t want to， but as I placed my fingers on the piano’s keys， I realized I could show other people that I had talent after all.
That day I told my father what he’d been waiting to hear — that I wanted to study with a new teacher. From that point on， everything turned around.
I started winning competitions. It was soon clear I couldn’t stay in China forever. To become a world-class musician， I had to play on the world’s big stages.
So in 1997， my father and I moved again， this time to Philadelphia， so I could attend The Curtis Institute of Music. Finally our money worries were easing. The school paid for an apartment and even lent me a Steinway. At night， I would sneak into the living room just to touch the keys.
Now that I was in America， I wanted to become famous， but my new teachers reminded me that I had a lot to learn.
I spent two years practicing， and by 1999 I had worked hard enough for fortune to take over. The Chicago Symphony Orchestra heard me play and liked me， but orchestra schedules were set far in advance.
I thought I might join them in a few years.
The next morning， I got a call. The great pianist Andre Watts， who was to play the “Gala Benefit Evening” at Chicago’s Ravinia Festival， had become ill.
I was asked to substitute. That performance was， for me， the moment. After violinist Isaac Stern introduced me， I played Tchaikovsky’s Piano Concerto No.1.
My father’s mouth hung open throughout the entire song. Afterward， people celebrated — maybe they were a bit drunk — and asked me to play Bach’s Goldberg Variations.
So I played until 3：30 a.m. I felt something happening. Sure enough， gigs started pouring in.Lincoln Center， Carnegie Hall. Still， my father kept telling me，“You’d better practice！”