2011年2月28日 星期一


The night is approaching its integrity,
I am drifting in the languages,
The perished musical instruments
Packed with ice.

Who is it at the crack of the day
Singing, water has become bitter,
Flame has lost its blood,
The mountain cat has sped to the stars.
There must be a formula,
When one dreams making can.

In the chilliness of a morning,
One awakened bird
Has come closer to the truth.
Whilst my poems and I
Are sinking down together.

In the book's February:
A certain motions and images.

(translated from poem 二月by Bei Dao)

This Day

The wind knows well what love is,
Summer day is glittering in royal colours,
The fishing man, in lone, is surveying
The wound of this earth.
The bell is sounding and bulking up.
The late noon strollers,
Please include into the significance of this age of the year.

Somebody is sitting at the piano,
Somebody is holding a ladder passing by.
Sleepiness has been delayed for a few minutes,
The sun is studying the shadows,
I drink my water from a clear mirror,
Seeing there my target enemies.

The tenor's singing
Agitated the big sea as the vessels do.
At early morning 3 AM I open a can,
Let those fishes shining off their brightness.

(translated by oswald, poem 這一天 by Bei Dao)


I come to this world just for once,
I have a beatiful stay with you,
You and you.
After I leave, I would soon be forgotten.
I am just a piece of music -


Don't switch on the light,
The door of sinister has drawn in the saints,
My hand knows the way well
Like an age-old key,
At the place of your heart,
Turns and opens your fate.

The month of March is outside the door drfiting.

A few sticks of bamboo are swaying,
Somebody is from the underground diving and swimming
The snow storm is over,
The butterflies assemble again.

I follow you like pilgrim,
You follow destiny.

(translated by oswald, poem 忠誠by Bei Dao)

2011年2月26日 星期六

New Century

Devotedly go for the glory, gloomy the earth turns,
We, the lights, the cement book
We read, the truth we learn.

Explode the bomb of gold,
Victims we would rather be,
To people the wounds we could show.

The archaeologist may come to know,
The film negative's epoch spirit,
A boy is grabbing it, say No.

It is the history interferes with our flying,
It is the bird hampers our walking,
It is the feet impedes our dreams making.

It is we give birth of us,
It is birth

(translated by oswald, poem 新世紀by Bei Dao)

2011年2月25日 星期五

A Troublesome Autumn

Sinking deeply into the murky candle,
Searching from the shale of knowledge for samples.
Lines of characters, after mating
Sleep soundly with culture until dawn.

The obstinate wheel, The abstentious snowman.
The finale of the earth;s chess game
Placed aside for years.
A rules evaded boy went across the border's river
To deliver a mail.
That is a poem, or an invitation of death.

(translated by oswald, poem 多事之秋by Bei Dao)

The Apple and The Pigheaded Stone

The praying ceremonial of the big sea,
A bad weather bends its body.

The pigheaded stone is guarding vainly the month of May,
Resisting the green infectious disease.

The four seaons are taking turns in chopping the big trees,
Clusters of stars are seeking their ways.

The drunkard, by means of his balancing power,
Breaks away in the mid of time.

A bullet runs through the apple,
Life is adopted.

(translated by oswald, poem 蘋果與頑石by Bei Dao)

Other Than

The storm inside the jar is leading the big sea charging forward,
Other than the pier, on the drfting sleepless bed,
The embraced lovers received the chain of power.
Other than the picture's frame, the plaster cast, with a classical smile
Is speaking by shadows available within the day.
Other than belief, a fine horse overtakes extinction,
The moon keeps on sealing on the dingy occurences.
Other than the story, a plastic tree is swaying briefly in the wind,
The murky food provision is the excuse of our survival.

(translated by oswald, poem 以外by Bei Dao)

2011年2月24日 星期四

My message,

I love Music,
I love Arts,
I love Nature,
I love Animals,
I love anything that is natural, TRUE and not artificial.

TRUE, this thing is really tough,

So I find it hard to be accepted, by this world.
Nevertheless, I feel happy and content,
Though I feel hungry sometimes.

For the past two months, I am unable to put up any performances
because financially I am not capable.
I will not give up, please wait a little bit.

In oder to get and save money for my ideas, I need to work very hard.
And, to do some extra sales as follows.

I have organic strawberry (local) to sell. HK40 per box, about 12 pieces.
Actually it is almost running out of season.

My sister and sister-in-law are very good at making cakes. And they
promise me to make cakes for me to sell. So a 1.5 lb (approximately)
cream cake is at HK 350. You need to collect them at Jordan MTR.
They are really good products.

Call me 9428 2283 or email me so that I can arrange them for you.

Thank you.


The Absence

The gale marshals the enemy's flags,
An order Golden Star aired and spreaded everywhere,
Love and hate are biting the same apple,
The age on the ladder,
The dream of nation retrieval.
The hero raises his hand high and occupies the night sky,
The crown handstands on the bitumen inside the mirror,

I close the door of parole,
Rejecting all the future witnesses,
That is the moment I enjoy my prime dignity.
The risky flames,
The unfamililar ashes.

(translated by oswald poem 缺席by Bei Dao)

Midnight Singer

A song,
It is the thief running on the roof,
Six colours he has stolen,
And the red hour hand of the clock
Pointing to the paradise of four o'clock.
Explosion of the four o'clock,
Inside the brain of a cock,
There is a craziness of four o'clock.

A song,
It is a tree, hostility linger,
On the other side of the border,
Promises it releases,
That flock of wolves, swallow the morrows.

A song,
It is the mirror, remembers the bodies well,
King of the memories,
It is the flames of the discussion
Of the wax-made tongues.
It is the myth-reared flowers and plants,
It is the steam-drived locomotive
Broken into the church.

A song,
It is the death of a singer,
The night of his death
Is pressed into a record in black,
Singing, singing and singing.

(translated by oswald poem午夜歌手by Bei Dao)

2011年2月21日 星期一



生有時 死有日





(改寫自區樂民醫生寫的<不怕死的老人>,蘋果日報5月9日 華采版)

Wake Up

Flocks of crows once again appear,
Towards the marching forest they tear.

From the Winter slope I wake up,
Downwards gliding the dream goes.

The sunlight sometimes will still keep
The agitation when two dogs meet.

That symphonic music a hospital is,
Cleans out the chaos of this mortal life.

The old person suddenly passed away,
In the whole life the cloth he weaved.

Water gushes up the branches' tips,
Rose made in metal will never wilt.

(translated by oswald poem 醒悟by Bei Dao)

2011年2月20日 星期日

Poetry Meetings

Poetry, Poetry, Poetry!

We meet on all Wednesdays!

On the first Wednesday at

The Fringe Club

and the followed Wednesdays at

Joyce is Not Here
(52 Peel St., G/F),

starting from 2000 hours.

Please come and share your poems with us.


我們詩寫第十四次詩聚 [詩密關係]

I copied letter from We-er Poetry and hope you can come and join us.




時間:1:00pm - 6:00pm
地點:油麻地上海街404號地下 - 活化廳

歡迎大家在Facebook Event的留言版(http://www.facebook.com/home.php#!/event.php?eid=191309474225457)或透過poemselves@gmail.com與我們聯絡。另外,亦歡迎大家透過電郵對我們的活動提出意見。希望能夠在詩聚見到大家!

http://ourpoem.tk poemselves@gmail.com
小風 +852 9607 4715 舒湄 +852 9270 9117 星風 +852 6482 9141
I copied letter from Kubrick Poetry and hope you can come and join us.

Dear friends,

Thank you so much for all your submitted poems. We received poems from Hong Kong, Macao, Shanghai, Taiwan and France. We would like to dedicate the February session(27th February, 5-6pm) for you who have submitted your work.

If you are coming, please reply this email. The address of the kubrick bookstore is next to Broadway Cinemathèque, 3 Public Square St. Yaumatei.

Best wishes and see you soon!


Kubrick Poetry • February • You are the poet
時間 Time:2011/2/27 (Sun) 5:00pm-6:00pm
地點 Venue:油麻地 Kubrick (next to Broadway Cinemathèque, 3 Public Square St.)
主持 Moderators:Polly Ho, Florence Ng, Wong Wai Yim
語言 Language:Cantonese, English, French
詩人來賓 Guest Poet:You!

We would like to thank all of you for submitting your poems. We are in the process of reading and appreciating your works. The choice for the wood print complement will be announced at a later time. However, for our February gathering, we would like to invite all of you to come and read your submitted poems. Bring friends. It will be a great time for sharing. New works and new participants are welcome too, of course.

2011年2月19日 星期六


I take an elevator from ground floor carport,
Movinng to a position at horizon,
Meditating that I am still moving up, beyond the blue.

Like the doctor, he who cannot be blocked.
They, decide my whole life:
The road leading to sucess.

The shouting of the boy has no connection with the seasons,
He is growing, He knows
How to hiurt others in the dream.

(translated by oswald from poem 憂鬱 by Bei Dao)

2011年2月18日 星期五

The Traveller of the Est

Breakfast gives us bread, jam, cream
And tea. I look outside the window at the fat pigions.
The surrounding visitors are in slow motion,

I climb up by following the bubbles.

Four color-patched mini horses have a wonderful performance,
What they expected is oats,
The joy when chewing bit by bit.

I climb up by following the thundering applaud.

The Summer when the bulldozer has passed through,
I exchange eye-sight with a stranger,
The deity of death is a great stalkerazzi,
By means of a certain eye,
Choosing a certain angle.

I climb up by following the stranger's aspiration.

That cyclist's expression is deformed,
He cannot stop, retreat from the jet stream.
Similar to a certain finger in piano playing.

I climb up by following the melody.

Somebody has fallen asleep when waiting for the train,
He has started his trip from after the destination.
The answering machine of a phone says:
Please leave a message after the tone.

(translated by oswald from poem 東方旅行者 by Bei Dao)

No Title

Shadow of the goshawk skims over,
Wheatfield shivers.

I have become the interpreter of Summer.
Go back to the main road,
Put on the hat and concentrate in thinking.

If the sky would not die.

(translated oswald from poem 無題by Bei Dao)


A mosquito,
Magnifies the extent of night.
It brings a drop of
My blood.

I am the mosquito
Minificated by the extent of night.
I bring a drop of
Night's blood.

I am beyond any extent,
The flying night.
I bring a drop of
Heaven's blood.

(translated from poem 收穫by Bei Dao)

2011年2月15日 星期二

The Sound of the Bell

The sound of the bell goes deep into the Autumn's hinterland,
Skirts fall in droves on the tree tops,
Pleasing the sky.

I can see the process the apple goes roten.

The violence inclined children
Evaporate like the dark fume.
The bricks of the house moistened.

The ten miles storm has got its tireless master.

The soundless bell striker,
The spreaded out time curtain
Broken in pieces, drifting all over the sky.

Succession of days strike each other, non-stop.

The ship goes landed,
Sliding on the heavy snow.
A sheep is staring at the distant place.

Its empty eye-sight looks like in peace

Everything is being given a new name,
The ears of this world
Maintaining a balance of danger.

This is a bell toll of dead.

(translated from poem 鐘聲by Bei Dao)

2011年2月14日 星期一

Deserted Lion

When you become old,
You are weak,
You are poor,
You are homeless,
No one care for you,
You are a deserted lion
Waiting for dealth,
Dealth !
That could be the best for you.

Love Story

Afterall, there is only one world
Preparing for us a mature Summer.
But we, by the rules and orders of the grown-ups
Carry on the games of Children.
Care not on the road side the collapsed people,
Care not also the grounded ship.

Nevertheless, the sunlight which has done the lovers a good fortune,
Has also given the workers' backs
A dark and fatigue night,,
Even at the small road of a dating,
Also has it ice and frost fallen
When the enemies' eye sights come into contact.

This won't be a simple story,
In this story
There is you and me, and many other people.

(translated from the poem愛情故事by Bei Dao)


2011年2月13日 星期日

This Moment

The grand movement of the arm
By one fine and delicate gear wheel,

From the dream, the dynamite collector,
Is collecting also salt for the wound
And the voices of the spirits.
What remains, is only the forever parting.
Forever parting snow
Is glittering and burning in the night sky.

(translated from poem 此刻by Bei Dao)

2011年2月12日 星期六

Memorial Day

So we become crazy about the abyss.

A memorial day,
Gulp down the tempest of the past,
With us together, sinking.

Gale forms itself into shape in a key hole,
That's the memory of the dead,
The knowledge of the night.

(Translated from poem 紀念日by Bei Dao)

2011年2月10日 星期四


Comes the sleeveless and skirt morning,
Everywhere are the apples running,
My daughter is doing her painting.
A five-year-old sky is so boundless,
Your name is called windows by two,
One opens to the armless sun,
One opens to your father,
Who has become an escaped hedgedog,
Bring with him a few obscure words,
And an reddest apple
Detaching from your painting.
A five-year-old sky is so boundless.

(translate​d from the poem 晝by Bei Dao

2011年2月8日 星期二

Countryside Cafe

There is a small garden cafe at Red Brick House, Kam Sheung Road, about 5 minutes walk from Kam Sheung Road West Rail Station. (It takes me 22 miniutes to arrive there from Austin Station).

It is a quiet place to enjoy life and spend your leisure time with simple food
and drinks (mainly organic drinks)there. It is not expensive.
During holiday it is rather congested so it is better not to go there in holiday.

The afternoon garden snack is really enjoyable with a mild sun-set trees around.

For Valentine Day they have arranged a special dinner set to entertain 10-12 pairs of lovers. The price is HKD388 for couple. For booking please call 5322 6292.

If you really do not know how to get there, you may call me 9428 2283 oswald.

Native Voice

I face a mirror to speak Chinese,
A park has its own Winter,
I switched on the music,
In Winter there are no flies,,
Leisurely I cook the coffee,
Flies do not know what homeland is,
I added some sugar,
Homeland is a kind of native voice,
At the other end of a telephone line,
I heard my fear.

(translated from poem 鄉音by Bei Dao)

Black Box

Who is waiting for
An ordered sunrise.

I close the door,
The inner part of the poem us in dusk.

At the centre of a desk,
The pepper king is mad.

A piece of music remembers me,
And lay down its burden.

The parts of a time piece scateer about
At the Royal horizon.

Incident and incident inter-linked,
Passing through the tunnel.

(transaled from poem 累盒by Bei Dao)

Meeting poets and poetry lovers in Hong Kong

If you are a poetry lovers, please do not miss the following venues of poetry making and sharing:

1. KubrickPoetry - every last Sunday, from 1700-1800 hours at Kubrick BookCafe at Yaumati.

2. The Out Loud - every first Wednesday, from 2000-2130 hours at The Fringe Club, Central.

3. The Untitled - every second, third and fourth Wednesday. from 2000-2230 hours at Joyce Is Not Here (a bar), 54 Peel Street, Mid-Level.

4. We're - on any Sunday, better check http://ourpoem.tk at 14/F, Fu Tak Mansion, Wanchai.

5. The Book Attic - due to moving, will broadcast when settle down.

Hope to see you there, you may contact me direct if you are attending.

Spending The Festival

The poison snake flaunts the nails in its mouth,
This earth posseses the poison snake
Swallowing the stillness of the bird's eggs.
All the time pieces
Stop at the dreamless moment.
The big harvest is gathering
The dead smiles of the wild.
Start off from the mercuric mirror,
The double-imaged people
Ride on the family's wheels
Go marketing.
A local hero
At an abandoned carport,

The glass is sunny.
The tangerine is splendid.

(translated by oswald from Bei Dao's poem 過節).

On The Road

July, the abandoned quarry,
The sub-sided wind and the fifty paper hawks flying pass by,
Those people who kneel before the sea,
Give up the thousand years' war.
I adjust the time difference,
Therefore I pass through my whole life.
Shouting happily for freedom,
The voice of the golden sand comes from the water,
The annoying baby inside the body is holding tobacco inside its month,
The head of the mother is wrapped up by heavy fog.
I adjust the time difference,
Therefore I pass through my whole life.
This city is migrating,
Big and tiny hotels and motels line up at the railway,
The straw hats of the travellers are whirling,
Somebody is shooting at them.
I adjust the time difference,
Therefore I pass through my whole life.
The bees in groups and in troops,
Chasing the wanderers' moving gardens,
The singer and the blind man,
Use the double glorious light shaking the night sky.
I adjust the time difference,
Therefore I pass through my whole life.
On the death covered map,
Destination is a drop of blood,
The concious stone under my feet,
Is obliterated by me.

(Translated from poem 在路上by Bei Dao)

Rebuilding The Starry Sky

A bird is detaining its
Streamline virginal strength
Inside a glass container,
Painful are the spectators
In between two opened
Confronting doors.

The wind has lifted a corner of the night
Under an old-fashioned table lamp,
I am thinking the possibility of rebuilding the starry sky.

(translated from poem 重建星空 by Bei Dao)

A True Listener

A mouse inside a pipe organ,
Experienced the tempest, stop.
The day is elongated,
The body is the far sight of the earth,
Absolute pitch,
Absolute sky.

A song is not yet finished,
The manuscripts of the composers scatter about,
Being taken back by the tempest.

(translated from poem 知音by Bei Dao)