On Leaving Cambridge Again

 

from the original poem by XU Zhimo (1895-1931) published in the 1920's

translated in February  of 1992 in Cambridge based on the earlier translation by Edward Connynham in the 1950's

 I leave quietly,

Just as I came, quietly;

Quietly I wave farewell

To the bright clouds of the Western sky.

 

The river bank's golden willows

Like brides in a setting sun;

Beautiful shadows in bright waves

Rippling in my heart.

 

The soft mud's iridescent grasses

Shimmering on the river bottom;

I wish I were a blade of grass

In the river Cam's soft waves.

 

That pool under the elm's shadow,

More than a clear spring --- a rainbow in heaven,

Twisted with floating weeds,

Precipitating rainbow dreams.

 

Dream searching? Push a long boat pole

Upstream towards green grass and the heavenly green;

A boat filled with starlight,

An invitation to song.

 

But I cannot sing.

It's quite quiet like a parting Xiao;*

The summer insects are silent.

Tonight Cambridge is still.

 

I leave quietly,

Just as I came, quietly;

I ripple my sleeves,

Not taking away a single cloud.

 

*  Xiao or Hsiao is a Chinese ancient musical instrument.  Here it  refers to a piece of music played for or by a parting friend.

附中文原诗：

    　　　                    再别康桥

                        徐志摩

            轻轻的我走了，
              正如我轻轻的来；
            我轻轻的招手， 　
              作别西天的云彩。

        

            那河畔的金柳 　
            　是夕阳中的新娘 
            波光里的艳影， 　
            　在我的心头荡漾。

            软泥上的青荇，
            　油油的在水底招摇；
            在康河的柔波里，
            　我甘心做一条水草

         

            那榆荫下的一潭，
            　不是清泉，是天上虹
            揉碎在浮藻间，
            　沉淀着彩虹似的梦。

         

            寻梦？ 撑一支长篙，
            　向青草更青处漫溯，
            满载一船星辉，
            　在星辉斑斓里放歌

     

            但我不能放歌，
            　悄悄是别离的笙箫； 
            夏虫也为我沉默，
            　沉默是今晚的康桥！

            悄悄的我走了，
            　正如我悄悄的来；
            我挥一挥衣袖，
            　不带走一片云彩。

Homesickness

-- by Yu Guangzhong

 

In my childhood,

Homesickness was a small stamp.

I was here.

And my mother was over there:

When I grew up,

Homesickness was a narrow ship-ticket.

I was here

And my bride was over there:

And then

Homesickness was a small tomb.

With me outside

And my mother inside:

But now,

Homesickness is a shallow strait.

I am on this side.

And the mainland is on the other side

 17

乡愁

   小时候     乡愁是一枚小小的邮票
   我在这头   母亲在那头

   长大后     乡愁是一张窄窄的船票
   我在这头   新娘在那头

   后来啊     乡愁是一方矮矮的坟墓
   我在外头   母亲在里头

   而现在     乡愁是一湾浅浅的海峡
   我在这头   大陆在那头