ferry

translated by PLS

we took the last ferry

that day, seven o’clock at night

from Penang to the peninsula.

then at half past seven, from the peninsula to Penang.

we used to love trips like these.

many times, from this end to that.

waiting for the boat, listening to the boatmen tightening ropes and lowering the gangplank.

when the gate opens, boarding, and looking around.

from Tsim Sha Tsui to Central,

from Bangkok flower market,

back to Temple of the Dawn in torrential rain.

at the viaducts in our hometown

wandering around in circles, only to

cross the river with you again.

sometimes i would walk into a dark alley, therefore it took a bit more time

to get to the pier, sometimes if there was no ferry i wanted

to take, i would still board one,

besides, i’m just taking photos, falling silent, staring blankly at the light.

sometimes i would forget to get off, until i was ushered out by a boatman.

it seemed the world after disembarking the boat, isn’t as nice as the water

between ports for us to spend time together,

or as good at understanding time spent in each other’s company.

she said, the water is sometimes dirty, though it can also wash a lot of things clean.

that was the last time we took the ferry together,

lights at the port amplified their brightness.

other than that, around the pier

it was just water, darkness, and water in the dark.

even now, if i walked toward the light,

there would be no more ferries to take me out to sea.

she said, the water is sometimes dirty,

though it can also wash a lot of things clean.

wandering in circles, only to

cross the river with you again.