Chinese Poetry (XVII): Chance Encounter 偶然

Chance Encounter 偶然
Xu Zhimo 徐志摩

我是天空裡的一片雲
I am a cloud in the sky,
偶然投影在你的波心
By chance reflecting on your rippling heart.^[1]
你不必訝異
You need not be surprised,
更無需歡心
Nor should you be overjoyed.
在轉瞬間消滅了蹤影.
In the blink of an eye, I could dissipate without a trace.

你我相逢在黑夜的海上，
You and I met each other in the darkness of the night sea.
你有你的，我有我的，方向；
You had yours; I had mine; directions
你記得也好，
It is fine, should you remember. . .
最好你忘掉，
Better that you forget:
在這交會時互放的光亮！
The radiance we projected upon each other during our encounter.

__ Xu Zhimo 徐志摩

Xu Zhimo was born in 1897 into a family of exceptional wealth. His father Xu Shenru 徐申如 was a tycoon, owning businesses in fermentation, silk, textile, electricity, and banking in Zhejiang and Shanghai. In his youth, in addition to literature, he also showed interests in a wide range of subjects. In 1916, he entered the law school at Peiyan University, which merged with Peking University in the following year.

In 1918, Xu left for the United States. He attended Clark University studying economics, business management, political science, and sociology. After graduating with honor, he entered Columbia University for a master’s degree in political science. Instead of matriculating into the Ph.D. program, he left for England in 1920, hoping to study with Bertrand Russell at Trinity College. The latter, after the anti-war controversy, had resigned from Trinity and left for Russia.

The inopportuneness might have been life-changing for Xu. At the encouragement of Goldsworthy Lowes Dickinson, he enrolled at King’s College as a “special student.” While there, he befriended Roger Fry, a member of the Bloomsbury Group, as well as other intellectuals close to the group.^[2] Under their influence, he became fascinated with Romantic poetry, especially works of Shelley and Byron. Eventually, he deviated from studying economics and focused, instead, in literature and writing.

In the Preface to his third poetic collection Fierce Tiger (1931) the poet wrote:^[3]

Speaking of me writing poetry, there was nothing more unexpected! I traced my ancestry: Since the Yongle Era [1403-1425], there was not a single line of worth-reading verse from our family. Before turning twenty-four, I was far less interested in poetry than in the theory of relativity or the Social Contract. My father sent me to study abroad, hoping that I would enter the “financial world” later. My own utmost ambition was to become the Hamilton of China![4] Before I was twenty-four, poetry, no matter old or new, had nothing to do with me. . .. Exactly ten years ago, I was swept by a peculiar wind, or might be shone upon by some strange moonlight. Henceforward, my thoughts trended towards lines of descriptions. A profound depression took over my being; this depression, I believed, eventually altered my disposition over time.

The wind and moon of Cambridge not only changed the trajectory of Xu’s career but also the paths of his personal life. In 1915, Xu Zhimo married 15-year-old Zhang Youyi 張幼儀. Although they both received modern education, they seemed not to object to the arranged marriage at first. When Xu arrived at Cambridge, feeling despondent, he asked for his parents’ permission for Zhang to join him there. For a while, they lived quietly in the village of Sawston.

Through his mentor Liang Qichao 梁啟超, Xu met politician and diplomat Lin Changmin 林長民 in London. He soon fell passionately in love with Lin’s daughter Huiyin 徽因. His writing—diary, poetry, and correspondences—of this period reflected his internal turmoil. He asked Zhang, pregnant with their second child, for a divorce.

Zhang Youyi went to Berlin to be with her brother and gave birth to a son in 1922. After studying in Germany, she returned to China, taking care of her in-laws as well as managing the family business.

Lin Huiyin returned to China with her father. She remained friends with Xu. When Nobel laureate Rabindranath Tagore visited China in 1924, Lin assisted Xu with interpretation work. She later married Liang Qichao’s son, Sicheng 梁思成. Both she and her husband became leading figures in modern Chinese architecture.

In October 1922, Xu Zhimo returned to China and quickly established himself as an influential member of the literary circle. In 1923, he joined the faculty of English at Peking University and formed the Crescent Moon Society 新月社with leading authors of the vernacular literature such as Hu Shi, Liang Shih-Chu 梁實秋 and Wen Yiduo 聞一多 to name a few. His editorial works at the Literary Supplement of Peking Morning News (晨報副刊 Chenbao fukan) and The Crescent Moon Monthly contributed greatly to the advancement of intellectual development in the 1920s.

Xu met Lu Xiaoman 陸小曼, an artist and socialite, in 1924. She was, at the time, married to Wang Geng 王賡, a Princeton and West Point graduate with a promising military career. Wang, due to his busy work schedule, asked Xu to keep his wife company. Soon after, Xu and Lu became amorously involved. Their affair, passionate and public, was shunned by their families and friends. Nevertheless, Lu divorced her husband in 1925 and married Xu in the following year. Xu’s parents cut off their financial support and never accepted Lu as part of the family.

__The Crescent Moon Society

The literary society Crescent Moon was named after a poetic collection, translated by Tagore. Members of the club were enthusiasts of vernacular poetry. However, they sought to stylize new poetry with prosodic structures fitting to the expression of words.

Wen Yiduo in his essay “Form in Poetry” 詩的格律 explained that poetic structure was inseparable from its visual and musical/rhythmic effects.^[5] While the old forms were fixed patterns, the new forms should be adjusted to fit the characters and expressions of the individual poem.

In an article, published in the first issue of The Crescent Moon Monthly (March 10, 1928), Xu Zhimo recalled his visit with Thomas Hardy at Max Gate. The latter compared rhymes to ripples caused by a rock thrown into the water—unavoidable, and lyric poems as diamonds—indestructible and shinning brilliantly regardless of their sizes. Xu used the word “organic” to describe Hardy’s work. And, the latter said, “Yes, Organic; yes, Organic: A poem ought to be a living thing.”

Members of the Crescent Moon fought against the politicizing of literature, especially efforts by the left-leaning writers. They believed that human right and freedom of expression should be the guiding principles of literary creation. The society as well as the Monthly ceased to operate in 1933.

__Chance Encounter

One of Xu Zhimo’s most beloved works, “Chance Encounter” first appeared in the supplemental section of Peking Morning News on May 27, 1926.^[6] It was later included in Act two of the play《卞崑岡》 (Bian Kungang), co-written by Xu and Lu Xiaoman,^[7] Perceived by most readers as a love poem, in Bian Kungang, the poem was sung by a blind man—a Greek-chorus-like character, to a dying eight-year-old child.^[8] As beautiful as the verses might be, they seemed out of place as the drama unfolded.

The poem is of two stanzas, each with two couplets plus a fifth concluding line. The word-grouping in each couplet also bears certain uniformity—clearly influenced by Wen Yiduo’s prosodic approach.^[9]

我是/ 天空裡的/ 一片雲
偶然/ 投影在/ 你的波心
你不必/ 訝異
也無需/ 歡心
在轉瞬間/ 消滅了/ 蹤影.

你我相逢/ 在黑夜的/ 海上，
你有你的/ 我有我的/ 方向；
你記得/ 也好，
最好/ 你忘掉，
在這/ 交會時/ 互放的光亮！

In the first stanza, lines 1, 2 and 4 rhyme on the /n/ sound: 雲 (ㄩㄣˊ, yún) and 心 (ㄒㄧㄣ, xīn). In the second one, lines 1, 2, and 5 share the same rhyme /ɑŋ/: 上 (ㄕㄤˋ, shàng), 向 (ㄒㄧㄤˋ, xiàng), and 亮 (ㄌㄧㄤˋ, liàng); lines 3 and 4 rhyme on /ɑʊ̯/: 好 (ㄏㄠˇ, hǎo) and 掉 (ㄉㄧㄠˋ, diào).

Structurally, this poem demonstrates Xu’s effort to be more “disciplined.” In terms of sentiments, it reflects a non-traditional, casual attitude towards relationships. The images of bright lights in the darkness of the night sea–striking. The reflections of a cloud over rippling water—fugitive.

The term 光亮 guang liang can be translated simply as “light.” To Xu Zhimo, however, this “light” seemed to have a deeper and more personal meaning as shown in his letter to Lu Xiaoman on March 3, 1925:^[10]

. . . 我如其憑愛的恩惠還能從我性靈裡放射出一絲一縷的光亮，這光亮全是你的， . . .
. . . If, by the graces of love, I can still release a thread of light from my soul, this light is all yours. . ..

. . .我站在你的正對面，我的淚絲的光芒與你的淚絲的光芒針對的交換著，你的靈性漸漸的化入了我的，我也與你一樣覺悟了一個新來的影響，在我的人格中四布的貫徹。. . .
I stand right in front of you. The brilliance of my stringing tears and the brilliance of your tears exchange conversely. Your spirit gradually melts into mine. I, like you, also realize that a new influence is spreading all over my being.

一個靈魂有時可以到最黑暗的地獄裡去游行，但一點神靈的光亮却永遠在靈魂本身的中心點著——况且你不是確信你已今找着了你的真歸宿，真想望，實現了你的夢？
Sometimes, a soul can venture into the darkest inferno. But a small light in the center of the soul will, nevertheless, shine eternally. Besides, wasn’t it that you have found your true destiny, true desire, and have realized your dream?

__Epilogue

A prolific writer, Xu Zhimo produced poetic collections, translations, and essays. His handling of words was unique and imaginative. Yet, like any sensitive artist, he never stopped questioning about life and about his work:^[11]

. . . the capriciousness of life is inconceivable! We are all genuine creatures manipulated by [life]. . . I also wondered often whether these poetic-writing days were undeserving luxury that some divine powers, pitying my foolishness, lent to me temporarily. I hope that, pitying a person, they pity him through and through.

After marrying Lu Xiaoman, he took on multiple teaching and editorial works to support her lavish lifestyle and, later, opioid addiction. Oppressed by reality, he became uninspired:^[12]

This year, within six months, I shuttled between Shanghai and Beijing eight times; lost my mother; [and] there were many other troublesome things. I was extremely exhausted. However, non-stop motions as well as the scenery of Beijing inadvertently stirred up my dormant soul. Lifting my head, surprisingly, I saw the sky. My eyes opened, and my heart began to be beating along. Green and purple of new leaves; lights and shadows of the toiling masses; figures of sadness and happiness; all the motions [and] all the stillness unfolded in front of my eyes again. The world full of sound, color and emotion existed for me again. This, seemingly, was to deliver one who once had a simple faith from drowning into dispirited doubts. The divinity hidden behind the veil is vivacious again: displaying its omnipotence and scrupulousness, instructing him to see the right path and never to deviate from it again. I hope that this will be a real chance of regeneration. . .

He had a wish for the readers:^[13]

. . . These and many more—I know; I know them all: . . . I don’t have anything else to say. I only wish that you would remember that there was a kind of bird, predestined to sing until coughing up blood. It alone knew the other-worldly joy in its song. And there was the keenness of sadness and hurt that it alone knew. A poet is also like a silly bird. He pushes his tender heart tightly against the thrones of climbing roses, continues singing the radiances of the sun and the moon and the hopes of mankind. He will not stop until the blood from his heart turns the white flower crimson red. His suffering and happiness are intermingled. . ..

On November 19, 1931, a few months after the publication of Fierce Tiger, Xu Zhimo died in a plane crash, enroute to a lecture co-presented by Lin Huiyin and her husband in Beijing.

---

^[1] The term “波心” can simply mean the center of a body of water. Here, it seems to make more sense treating the word 波 (bō, wave) as a verb. 心 (xin) means heart.
^[2] Other than Dickinson and Fry, Xu was associated with John Middleton Murry and his wife, Katherine Mansfield. He translated eight of Mansfield’s short stories into Chinese: 《曼殊斐爾小說集》.
^[3] Preface to Fierce Tiger (1931). 《猛虎集》序: . . . 說到我自己的寫詩，那是再沒有更意外的事了。我查過我的家譜，從永樂以來我們家里沒有寫過一行可供傳誦的詩句。在二十四歲以前我對于詩的興味遠不如對于相對論或民約論的興味。我父親送我出洋留學是要我將來進 “金融界” 的，我自己最高的野心是想做一個中國的Hamilton！在二十四歲以前，詩，不論新舊，于我是完全沒有相干。. . . 整十年前我吹著了一陣奇異的風，也許照著了什么奇異的月色，從此起我的思想就傾向于分行的抒寫。一份深刻的憂郁占定了我；這憂郁，我信，竟于漸漸的潛化了我的氣質。
^[4] Alexander Hamilton.
^[5] Literary Supplement of Peking Morning News 晨報副刊, May 13, 1926.
McClellan, T. M. “Wen Yiduo’s Sishui Metre: Themes, Variations and a Classic Variation.” Chinese Literature: Essays, Articles, Reviews (CLEAR) 21 (1999): 151–67.
^[6] On April 1, 1926, members of the Crescent Moon Society initiated a weekly poetic segment “Shi juan 詩鐫,” meaning “poetic engraving,” in the supplemental section of the Morning News published every Thursday. “Chance Encounter” was included in the 9th volume.
^[7]Bian Kungan was printed in The Crescent Moon Monthly in April 1928.
^[8] Xu admired the works of Gabriele D’Annunzio and had translated his tragic drama La città morta (The Dead City). Elements of D’Annunzio’s play seemed to have been the inspirations for Bian Kungang. In The Dead City, Alessandro, the protagonist, and his best friend Leonardo, an archeologist, were in an exploration in Argolide. Bian Kungang in Xu’s play was a sculptor, restoring statues at the Yungang Grottos 雲岡山石窟. Anna, Alessandro’s wife, was blinded in a childhood incidence. James Nikopoulos in “The Spirit of the Chorus in D’Annunzio’s La città morta” gave detailed analysis of Anna’s character.
^[9] Xu mentioned Wen’s influence on his writing “technique” in the Preface to Fierce Tiger.
^[10]Xu Zhimo Quanji 徐志摩全集 [The complete works of Xu Zhimo], ed. By Han Shishan 韓石山, Tianjin ren min chu ban she, Tianjin city, 2005, vol. 6—Letters, 95-96
^[11]Preface to Fierce Tiger, “. . . 生命的把戲是不可思議的！我們都是受支配的善良的生靈. . . 我也時常疑慮到我這些寫詩的日子也是什么神道因為憐憫我的愚蠢暫時借給我享用的非分的奢侈。我希望他們可憐一個人可憐到底！”
^[12] Serious conflicts arose between Xu and his father during his mother’s final days and after her death.
Ibid., “今年在六個月內在上海與北京間來回奔波了八次，遭了母喪，又有別的不少煩心的事，人是疲乏極了的，但繼續的行動與北京的風光卻又在無意中搖活了我久蟄的性靈。抬起頭居然又見到天了。眼睛睜開了心也跟著開始了跳動。嫩芽的青紫，勞苦社會的光與影，悲歡的圖案，一切的動，一切的靜，重復在我的眼前展開，有聲色與有情感的世界重復為我存在；這仿佛是為了要挽救一個曾經有單純信仰的流入懷疑的頹廢，那在帷幕中隱藏著的神通又在那里栩栩的生動：顯示它的博大與精微，要他認清方向，再別錯走了路。我希望這是我的一個真的復活的機會。”
^[13] Ibid., “. . .還有別的很多，我知道，我全知道；. . . 我再沒有別的話說，我只要你們記得有一種天教歌唱的鳥不到嘔血不住口，它的歌里有它獨自知道的別一個世界的愉快，也有它獨自知道的悲哀與傷痛的鮮明；詩人也是一種癡鳥，他把他的柔軟的心窩緊抵著薔薇的花刺，口里不住的唱著星月的光輝與人類的希望非到他的心血滴出來把白花染成大紅他不住口。他的痛苦與快樂是渾成的一片。

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