Xu Zhimo's Leaving Cambridge poem: rhyming translation

Zhimo was briefly a researcher at King's (1921-22) after reading economics and politics in Beijing and New York. He studied romantic and symbolist poetry and translated some into Chinese, and also began to write his own poetry, including a first poem about leaving Cambridge in 1922, but the famous second one was dated 6th November 1928 coinciding with a second and final visit to Cambridge while he was touring various countries for pleasure. In 1931 he died in a plane crash while flying between Chinese cities.

In 2004/05 I saw photocopies of English letters Zhimo wrote to Ogden (?) when I was assisting a Chinese visiting professor to read the handwriting (my damaged visual cortex means I'm more used to guessing unclear things, albeit slowly). In the letters Zhimo described the places he'd visited and the experiences he'd had, and he also mentioned shutting himself in solitary confinement for months at a time trying to get over a writer's block. Some of them carried an address in Sawston near Cambridge. (I think the professor was helping with the 2005 Complete Works book, ISBN 7201050249, but it's hard to find a copy outside China.)

The original poem has rhyme and rhythm. The number of syllables in each line is: 6+7, 6+7, 6+7, 6+7, 6+8, 7+8, 7+4, 10+8, 7+8, 6+8, 6+8, 7+8, 6+7, 6+7. The last characters on successive line-pairs rhyme: 来lái/ 彩cǎi,  娘niáng/ 漾yàng,  摇yáo/ 草cǎo,  泉quán/ 梦mèng (OK that one depends on your topolect/方言fāngyán; it works a bit better in Cantonese chyuhn\ / muhng-; I don't know about Zhimo's speech; it's also possible to interpret the 7+4/10+8 lines as 7+8/6+8 and try to rhyme 虹hóng/ 梦mèng instead), 溯sù/ 歌gē (also topolectical; Cantonese: go\), 箫xiāo/ 桥qiáo (an impressive rhyme against the name of the city), and again 来lái/ 彩cǎi (although the last lines are not exact repeats of the first; more on this later).

Below is the original poem and my attempt at a rhyming English version which I did in 2006 (revised 2010), and also some notes on how that was arrived at, stanza by stanza. (This page uses Simplified Chinese characters, but the poem was originally written in Full-form or "Traditional" Chinese. A version with the original characters is also available if you prefer.)

再Zài 别Bié 康桥Kāngqiáo	Leaving the Revisited Cambridge
再Zài means "again" and the title has sometimes been translated "On Leaving Cambridge Again" or "Saying Goodbye to Cambridge Again", but Susan Gu (published in the Cambridge student magazine The Seres, Issue 23, 1999) simply wrote "On Leaving Cambridge" without "again", presumably because "again" seems like a more frivolous word that doesn't carry the "second and final time" connotations that Zhimo would have wanted (see background above; Wieger says the character 再 implies "two"). "Revisited" is the closest thing I can think of to the right meaning. (Inserting "the" makes this read better, but might imply that this Cambridge is somehow different from the earlier one; I'm not sure if he'd want that, but it's minor.) 康桥Kāngqiáo is normally written 剑桥Jiànqiáo "sword bridge" now, although 康Kāng does sound slightly more like the English "cam". Because of the 剑桥Jiànqiáo translation, some Chinese students think the word "cam" means sword! (There is a modern English word "cam" which is 凸轮 in Chinese, but the "Cam" in "Cambridge" came from the Celtic "Grontabricc" "Granta bridge" when the Normans changed Gronta to Cante and then Cam, eventually renaming the river to suit. One Chinese scholar remarked that the Chinese translation was done by somebody from Fujian who did not speak "Standard Mandarin", hence the difference.) The Cambridge University Chinese Society (which was formed by Hong Kong students in the late 1950s) has a logo that morphs the character 剑 (actually its "traditional" form 劍) into a variant that features the society's abbreviation CUCS in distorted letters; whoever drew that was an unwitting forerunner of website CAPTCHAs (invented in 2000).
轻轻Qīngqīng 的de 我wǒ 走zǒu 了le，  正如zhèngrú 我wǒ 轻轻qīngqīng 的de 来lái；  我wǒ 轻轻qīngqīng 的de 招手zhāoshǒu，  作别zuòbié 西xī 天tiān 的de 云彩yúncai。	Quietly now I leave the Cam, As quietly as I came. Gently wave farewell the clouded Western sky aflame---
轻轻Qīngqīng means "lightly; gently" according to the ABC Dictionary edited by John DeFrancis; other dictionaries say "softly" etc. English translations of the poem usually say "quietly". When this idea returns at the end of the poem, a deeper word is used (more on this later). The line literally reads "lightly I left just-like I lightly came; I lightly wave, take-leave West sky's clouds" but that of course needs to be re-worked into English grammar. 西Xī 天tiān 的de 云彩yúncai is often translated "the clouds in the Western sky" but what did he mean by "Western sky"? (Note I am not writing 西xī 天tiān as  the  one  word  西天Xītiān because I don't think it can possibly be a reference to the Buddhist Western Paradise or India.) "Western sky" could just mean "the sky in Western countries", but in the following lines he uses the word 夕阳xīyáng (setting  sun)  and  金jīn 柳liǔ (gold willow, clearly a reference to the golden light of the sunset illuminating the tree) so I think "Western sky" simply means looking West towards the sunset. This can be used to our advantage when making it rhyme, as there are many possible English sunset metaphors that could be added at this point and I don't think Zhimo would have minded much. I put "flame", to rhyme with "came". Incidentally "leave the Cam" is not in the original but Susan Gu put it in and I think she had the right idea to introduce the subject early in English (the original does not have River Cam 康Kāng 河hé until later).
那Nà 河畔hépàn 的de 金jīn 柳liǔ，  是shì 夕阳xīyáng 中的zhōng de 新娘xīnniáng；  波光bōguāng 里lǐ 的de 艳yàn 影yǐng，  在zài 我wǒ 的de 心头xīntóu 荡漾dàngyàng。	There the golden willow stands a bride of sunset's glow. How its dancing ripples glint and stir my heart below;
The Chinese "willow" can be read as either one or many (那nà "that" implies one, but this could be read as refering to the 河畔hépàn riverbank); Susan Gu's translation used the plural (there are many willows on the Cam) but King's college news said it is thought that the poem refers to the one willow in King's near where the stone was placed. Previously I had a plural translation on this page but I revised it when a Chinese told me that the "bride" metaphor sounds bad in the plural. The "bride" metaphor could be taken as a bride of the setting sun or a bride in the setting sun's light, depending on how you understand the construction 中的zhōng de (which I'm still not sure I understand, although one clue is its use in Gen2's 我wǒ 骨gǔ 中zhōng 的de 骨gǔ poem).  We  also  have  波光bōguāng ("wave light" or "shimmer of water"), 艳yàn 影yǐng (beautiful shadow/image, possibly also a wordplay on 电影diànyǐng "movie" which had only recently been invented at the time, but I don't know whether its Chinese translation had been coined before the poem), and a reference to it "rippling" in the poet's 心头xīntóu (mind or heart).
软泥Ruǎnní 上shàng 的de 青qīng 荇xìng，  油油yóuyóu 的de 在zài 水底shuǐdǐ 招摇zhāoyáo；  在zài 康Kāng 河hé 的de 柔róu 波bō 里lǐ，  我wǒ 甘心gānxīn 做zuò 一yì 条tiáo 水草shuǐcǎo！	crowded rushes wave in water bouncing with the weed flowing slick by soft-soil'd banks--- I long to thus proceed!
软泥Ruǎnní is ooze or soft mud, 青qīng is green (when used of plants) and 荇xìng is a kind of water plant like nymphoides peltatum (which was mis-spelled "peltalum" in the Unihan database and many Chinese-English dictionaries that derive from it). That plant looks like a kind of water lily and tends to grow in ponds or very slow-moving rivers with no shade; I wouldn't know where to look for them on the Cam. Perhaps the character had other meanings which current dictionaries don't bring out very well. Susan Gu translated it as "rushes" (灯心草) and I guess she knew what she was doing so I'll say "rushes" too. (One Chinese student said Zhimo might have misidentified the plant as he wasn't a botanist.) 油油Yóuyóu could mean "glossy; shiny; flowing smoothly and incessantly; luxuriant and dense" (ABC) and all of those meanings are relevant but unfortunately it's hard to bring them all out in brief English. 在Zài 水底shuǐdǐ 招摇zhāoyáo (act ostentatiously in the bottom of the water) suggests we're still looking at reflections. 我Wǒ 甘心gānxīn 做zuò 一yī 条tiáo 水草shuǐcǎo means he wanted to be a piece of water weed; I had to reduce this from a metaphor to a simile ("thus proceed") for my rhyme because it's not good to rhyme with the exact same word, although I hope it really was the weed's action he wanted, not some other aspect (like its remaining on the Cam, cf Ps84 esp. v3 envying the birds that could stay there).
那Nà 榆yú 荫yìn 下xià 的de 一yì 潭tán，  不是bú shì 清泉qīngquán，  是shì 天上tiānshang 虹hóng 揉碎róusuì 在zài 浮fú 藻zǎo 间jiān，  沉淀着chéndiànzhe 彩虹cǎihóng 似的shìde 梦mèng。  寻梦Xúnmèng？	Duckweed-crumpled rainbow's pool of iridescent dream pure as springs 'neath elmtree's bough--- O search the shrouded stream;
不是Bú shì 清泉qīngquán means the pool is not a crystal-clear fountain or spring. English romantic poetry rarely uses this kind of negated metaphor, so it's hard to know how to translate it. Susan Gu said "more rainbow-like than pure spring water (*)" which is ambiguous depending on whether you infer "-like" or "is" at (*). I borrowed her idea of introducing ambiguity to make the comparison more positive ("pure as springs" could refer to the dream instead of the pool; that's why there's no punctuation). It seems he's talking about a pond (潭tán) rather than the previous line's River Cam (康Kāng 河hé), or at least he's talking about a still section of river that can metaphorically be called a pond. 榆Yú 荫yìn 下xià means beneath the shade of an elm tree. I don't know where it is. Some translations suggest the pond doesn't hold water at all (a pool of mud, because 沉淀chéndiàn is "sediment"), but on the other hand 浮fú means  "float"  and  虹hóng 揉碎róusuì 在zài 浮fú 藻zǎo 间jiān literally means rainbow crumbled in among floating algae, so if 着 is taken in this context to be the progressive tense marker (着zhe) then the "sediment" seems to have been used antimerically (verbified) as "sedimenting a rainbow". Susan Gu's translation in The Seres said the pool was "crumpled by duckweeed", and I couldn't resist using this idea even though "crumpled" might have been a misprint for "crumbled". Also Susan Gu translated 寻梦xúnmèng (seek+dream; "follow a dream" ABC) as "searching for a dream" which I sort-of kept but had to change for the rhyme (and anyway it's connected to the following part).
撑Chēng 一yì 支zhī 长cháng 篙gāo，  向xiàng 青草qīngcǎo 更gèng 青qīng 处chù 漫màn 溯sù，  满载mǎnzài 一yì 船chuán 星xīng 辉huī，  在zài 星xīng 辉huī 斑斓bānlán 里lǐ 放歌fànggē。	Punt toward the yonder whence the emerald fields lie; Return with joyous song engulfed by tranquil starlit sky.
It's hard to know what 漫màn 溯sù means. 溯Sù means against the current and some translations say "upstream" but where does the 漫màn (overflow) come in to this (or should it be taken as part of the previous phrase)? I put "whence" (="from where") implying a metaphor tying the field layout to the river's course, but I'm not sure if that was the right thing to do. The only place you can punt to where there are fields is upstream (unless you have permission to use the lock and can go down to Stourbridge Common); the poem is not really about giving directions so I suppose the loss of explicit "upstream" is no great calamity.
但Dàn 我wǒ 不能bùnéng 放歌fànggē，  悄悄qiāoqiāo 是shì 别离biélí 的de 笙箫shēngxiāo；  夏虫xiàchóng 也yě 为我wèi wǒ 沉默chénmò，  沉默chénmò 是shì 今晚jīnwǎn 的de 康桥Kāngqiáo。	But as for me, I cannot sing this muted summer's evening; Even insects hush, as silence plays the flute for leaving.
Here he introduces some very interesting Chinese words. First of all 悄悄qiāoqiāo, which can also be written qiǎoqiǎo in pinyin and can mean quietly/silently, secretly, or sad/grieved. He goes on to use this word in place of 轻轻qīngqīng when bringing the opening idea back to the end (below); it adds more depth to the meaning. 悄悄Qiāoqiāo 是shì 别离biélí 的de 笙箫shēngxiāo literally means "silence is leaving's flute" (by the way it's a vertical bamboo flute, not a transverse flute which would be 长笛chángdí, but I wasn't sure how to bring out that detail in the English); it could just mean "the leaving-flute is not playing" (compare 沉默chénmò 是shì 今晚jīnwǎn 的de 康桥Kāngqiáo which is literally "silent is this evening's Cambridge"), but it could be more metaphorical so I couldn't resist borrowing Susan Gu's idea of personifying silence as playing it. Also I didn't bring out the 为我wèi wǒ "for me" in "even insects hush for me" because I couldn't make it fit the English rhythm so I left it implicit. 夏虫Xiàchóng is literally "summer insect" but I had to put the season into the previous line instead.
悄悄Qiāoqiāo 的de 我wǒ 走zǒu 了le，  正如zhèngrú 我wǒ 悄悄qiāoqiāo 的de 来lái；  我wǒ 挥一挥huī yi huī 衣袖yīxiù，  不bú 带走dàizǒu 一yí 片piàn 云彩yúncai。	Stealth'ly now I part from Cam, As bid farewell I must. Waving sleeve so gently lest a cloudspeck I should dust.
Again we are deepening 轻轻qīngqīng to  悄悄qiāoqiāo and I tried to emphasize this by upgrading "quietly" to "stealthily" but other translations don't usually do this. "Bid farewell I must" is unfortunately added to make the last line rhyme but it's sort-of reflected in the poem's opening line with 作别zuòbié.  不Bú 带走dàizǒu 一yí 片piàn 云彩yúncai means "not take-away a piece-of cloud" but I drew my version from Susan Gu's wonderfully metaphoric "I am fearful of dusting away a speck of cloud" (presumably with his sleeve). (I was tempted to copy Susan Gu's last line as-is, deliberately breaking the meter, but one Chinese advised me that such a break spoiled the mood.)

Some Chinese tourists who visit Cambridge ask which "bridge" the poet was referring to. Since the only reference to a "bridge" is in 康桥Kāngqiáo, I assume this question arises from not understanding that this is an old name of the city. I usually try to say it's a metaphor for the whole city which contains many bridges, and then direct them to the nearest example.

I was first introduced to this poem by reading Susan Gu's translation in the 1999 issue of the student magazine The Seres (number 23), which by that time was a publication of the Cambridge University Chinese Society founded by Hong Kong students in the late 1950s with the aim of promoting understanding of Chinese culture etc among non-Chinese members of the university. By the 1980s there were many more Hong Kong students and consequently the society became larger and shifted its focus toward being a social hub for its members, losing the emphasis of promoting to non-Chinese, but they did support the Seres Group which published The Seres from 1988 to 1999 (it is available in the University Library under code Cam.b.41.63.1- but is in the Rare Books Room and not borrowable; I don't know if they managed to get all issues). In around 1998 CUCS and a few other Chinese student societies (there were several by that time, variously catering for mainland Chinese, British-Chinese, Chinese lawyers, etc) decided they should rejuvenate efforts to reach non-Chinese and created the Cambridge University Chinese Education Committee (CUCEC) which offered free membership and free language lessons; their entry in the student union's societies directory told freshers "you came here to learn new things and Chinese is going to be one of them!" (I got involved in some behind-the-scenes work for CUCEC, but I'm sorry to say I didn't learn much at the time because I hadn't yet found out about graduated-interval recall). CUCEC greatly helped to distribute the last issue of The Seres and I would not have seen it if it weren't for them. By 2000 CUCEC had changed its name to Chinese Cultural Society (CCS), and subsequently copied CUCS's earlier transformation of becoming larger and less focused on promoting to non-Chinese.