Farewell Again, Cambridge 再别康桥 is one of the most memorable poems and a school curriculum component in modern-day China. Written in 1928, its author Xu Zhimo 徐志摩 is a pioneer in China’s modern poetry movement and this poem is considered his very best work. Having studied at Cambridge and toured Europe in 1920s, Xu was heavily influenced by English and French romantic poetry. His literary talent, his eventful love life and his untimely death in an air crash, at age 34, have been a subject of interest and discussion for generations till today. A marble stone with the last two lines of this famous poem lies at the Backs of King’s College, Cambridge.
Click on the video below to enjoy a recital from one of the most recognised Western personalities in China. Mark Rowswell, aka Dashan 大山, is a Canadian who has studied and worked in China since 1988. Speaking Mandarin like a native, Dashan is a domestic celebrity for his performances in Chinese style stand-up comedy or xiangsheng 相声 as well as various television shows. He is a friend of WiC’s and was one of the earliest Red Stars featured in this publication (see WiC issue 6).
For more on Dashan, visit his official site at www.dashan.com
再别康桥
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。
Softly, softly, I take my leave,
just as silent as I came;
I wave a sighing goodbye
to the many-hued clouds in the western sky.
The golden willows on the riverbanks
are young brides in the setting sun;
their bright reflections in the rippling surface
gently sway in my aching heart.
The green grass on the smooth mud
beckons tenderly from the depths.
In the soft embrace of the river Cam,
a single reed is all I long to be.
In the shade of the elm trees, a pool lies,
less a pool of water than a pool of rainbowed sky;
Crushed and dusted among the duckweeds,
there lies the sediment of my once beautiful dreams.
What is it to chase dreams? It is to push a long pole through the water
towards clearer, greener prospects;
it is to ferry a boatload of starlight,
and to sing within the brilliance of it all.
But I cannot sing,
For quiet is the highest form of farewell;
As even the crickets stop chirping,
solemnity reigns in this night’s Cambridge.
Quietly I take my leave,
just as quietly as I came;
I wave my sleeve in farewell,
Not taking a single wisp of cloud with me.
(Translation by Heather Skye Irvine and Mei Zhang)
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