Softly I am leaving,
As I softly came;
I weave my hand in gentle farewell
To the clouds in the western sky.
The golden willow in the riverbank
Is a bridge in the sunset;
Her luminous reflection in the ripples
Is swaying in my heart.
Plant in the soft mud
Wave in the current;
I'd rather be a water reed
In the gentle river of Cam.
The pool in the shade
Is not clear but iridescent;
Wrinkled by the swaying algae,
It settles into a rainbow like dream.
In search of a dream? With a long pole,
Sail toward where the grass grows greener;
In a skiff loaded with starlight,
Sing among the shining star.
But I cannot sing tonight;
Silence is tune of farewell.
Summer insects are quite for me, too;
Silent is Cambridge tonight.
Quietly I am leaving,
As I quietly came;
I raise my sleeve and wave,
Without taking away a whiff of cloud.
November 6, 1928 |
