Poetry from The Literary Review
Cityscape
Leung Ping-kwan
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the city is always the color of neon secret messages hidden there the pity is only, you’re wearing a mask no way to know if it’s you that’s speaking fruit from many different places each with its own tale to tell in newly dressed shop windows Che Guevara rhymes with the latest in shoes in your little cafe i bump into friends I haven’t seen in years between pickles and green tea porridge a cup of tea has drunk away a lifetime have you any spare change then? there are plenty of gods on sale at the market she cherishes the memory of her last life’s rouge he likes the celadon green of city dust so sing me a song then on the winding midnight street yesterday and us, we’ve come face to face but however we try, we can never recall today Translated from the Chinese by Brian Holton
he who plans to come can’t; he who plans to leave knows not if he can make the trip stays still. something burns in the lungs. suspected germs gnaw at you, etching into two blades of scanty leaves. Itchy throat holding up in so many sleepless nights not daring to cough out, fearing in the surrounding the frightened looks, scattered footsteps seats around you suddenly become empty cursing those you hate with wooden clogs under the bridge the season of revival consoled with white tiger and pork for a whole spring, keeping guard by the drizzling wet wall waiting for the faceless fear that is to come? lurking in the corner of mean alleys for so many years that which hides in the cracks of broken doors and windows in the moonless night attacks the darkest corner of our chest the sunset that runs out of breath reflects on the glass wall of metallic buildings a red aura around the sick before death we are on the same boat. why keep on cursing those next to you? the metallic pipes are rusty. Jammed thoughts remain to be cleared secrets cannot be hidden underground forever your passion atypically expanding suddenly exposed before indifferent eyes under a mask, covering shame or contempt there is self-pity in the self-mocking eyes, hiding and revealing that much at the same time i write to you: my temperature fluctuates my condition worsens and alleviates while i’m writing words could only be met with endless solitude turning in sleepless hours amidst dejection and self-abandonment in wasted moments we become nostalgic loved ones who cannot see each other begin to doubt the hidden face turns to anger or gratitude? there are always those who stay through the night to fight attacks when others get sick. i am sick as well a long melody, meandering we play together till the end we learn to be patient while going downhill thinking of each other in isolated beds those outside the wall wish to look through the bricks to see the vague figure inside the world is a rumbling machine, cold to the touch. you fumble to repair the broken parts trying to stand up straight inside the slanting roof i still have part of what you believe inside me perhaps never to be completely corroded by germs someday i still want to see you under the sun i just heard your voice a moment ago, and it disappeared is it a ship calling out to another in the mist? another city collapsed in the distance cultural artifacts accumulated through the ages are destroyed the most fragile is the heart or the wall? but after the tornado, have the bridge supports collapsed? no, cars still run on the bridge people in the small town reappear across the misty shore tomorrow, will i see you again? after the summer nightmare would we be kinder to each other?
“the fish, originated in china propagated in american lakes has caused panic among the residents the ministry of internal affairs announced this aggressive atrocious fish has to be banned from import” “how appalling. such aliens firm-jawed and sharp-teethed, big-mouthed and greedy look evil too exactly the frankenfish from the movies probably would gobble up everything in the american lakes probably would gobble up everything in america” “how appalling, such monsters finishing off all there is in the water perch on land with their fins it’s creepy how do we know they won’t devour american houses? how do we know they won’t devour american cars? this is definitely not the american eating habit” “how appalling. how do we know they aren’t spies from the enemy camp, sent to collect intelligence under our horizon spread rumors of corporate fraud set off time bombs in markets unsettle the hearts of simple sincere citizens corrupt people’s morals, cause divorce and ultimately seduce our people into believing pagan gods?” “how appalling. evidences prove these gluttons seriously affect our recreational activities the livelihood of commercial fishing; they must be seriously dealt with the minister of internal affairs announced. ban on Import people traveling with the fish will be jailed for six months customs will confiscate the fish and their eggs eradicate them for good, drive them to extinction, in short” “officers in maryland are consulting scientists to exterminate them with plans to poison the lakes put out promotional ads, tv programs and athletic uniform everyone passing through customs would have his shoes checked the military cancel their vacation to await order nuclear weapons, as rumour goes, will be deployed if necessary” “how appalling. we’ve to maintain the purity of our lakes, dignity of our great nation we’ve to eradicate these aliens that seriously threaten our ecology threaten our beliefs while the enemy is spreading rumor to confuse our hearts we have to deal a head-on pre-emptive blow declare war on the enemy at all cost! Declare war on the fish at all cost!” Editor's Note: Leung Ping-kwan's poems are from an exhibition "2, 3 things about Hong Kong" held at City Gallery, The City University of Hong Kong in November 2003. |
