《登鹳雀楼》

余光中

白日， 已落到山後

黃河， 前浪早已入了海

後浪， 源自雪水

還有得流呢， 千年萬代

你真要上樓去望遠嗎

就讓我陪著你吧

像穿越電影那樣

你帶我去指點盛唐

我帶你，  唉

去回顧二十一世紀

Climbing Stork Tower

(Translated by Hao Yang)

The sun has set behind the hills

The river has washed into the sea

Of course, it still flows, endlessly,

From snow caps, for generations to come…

Do you really want to view the scene from atop?

Fine, let me tag along.

Just like time travel movies.

You shall show me the glories of the Tang,

And I shall, well,

Run you through the 21st century.

No longer shall I cry

(Translated by Hao Yang)

In that languid, sleepless night,

No longer shall I cry, no longer shall I cry.

In that languid, sleepless night,

When the ice-cold glare of the lizard on the wall

Meets my melancholy gaze;

When the lakeside choir draws to an end,

Leaving behind a lonesome frog speaking to itself;

When fireflies prop up a dusk-orange candle flame,

As though searching for lost memories;

When troupes of mosquitoes tire after a night of ballet,

Returning to rest before the break of dawn;

In that languid, sleepless night,

No longer, no longer shall I cry.

However deep, depthless the scars of the soul,

They cannot be bathed in tears too warm,

Cannot be probed with tears too shallow,

Nor rinsed with tears too dilute.

《母难日》

余光中

今生今世

今生今世，

我最忘情的哭声有两次，

一次在我生命的开始，

一次在你生命的告终，

第一次我不会记得是听你说的，

第二次你不会晓得我说也没用，

但两次哭声的中间啊！

有无穷无尽的笑声，

一遍一遍又一遍，

回荡了整整三十年，

你都晓得我都记得。

矛盾世界

快乐的世界啊

当初我们见面

你迎我以微笑

而我答你以大哭

惊天，动地

悲哀的世界啊

最后我们分手

我送你以大哭

而你答我以无言

关天，闭地

矛盾的世界啊

不论初见或永别

我总是对你以大哭

哭世界始于你一笑

而幸福终于你闭目

天国地府

每年到母难日

总握着电话筒

很想拨一个电话

给久别的母亲

只为了再听一次

一次也好

催眠的磁性母音

但是她住的地方

不知是什么号码

何况她已经睡了

不能接我的电话

“这里是长途台

究竟你要

接哪一个国家？”

我该怎么回答呢？

天国，是什么字头？

地府，有多少区号？

那不耐的接线生

卡挞把线路切断

留给我手里一截

算是电线呢还是若断若连的脐带

就算真的接通了

又能够说些什么

“这世界从你走后

变得已不能指认

唯一不变的只有

对你永久的感恩”

The Day of Mother's Passing

(Translated by Hao Yang)

In this life

In this life

I have cried most miserably but twice

Once, when my life first began

Once, at your life’s end

I do not remember the former. I heard it from you.

The latter… you will not know. Useless for me to say more.

But in between both cries

There were endless laughters

Again, again and again

Echoing for thirty whole years

You were there, and I remember

World of Contradiction

The world of joy:

When we first met

You greeted me with a smile

I replied with cries

That shook the earth.

The world of grief:

At last we parted

I sent you off, weeping

While you replied with silence

And that was it.

O world of contradiction

Whether first union or eternal parting

I always faced you with my tears

Lamenting that the world began with your smile

And bliss ended as you slept.

Heaven and Hell

Every year, on the day of your passing,

I would grip the telephone, wishing

To make a call to you, mother who has long

Departed, just to hear, for just once more,

Just once more,

Your magnetic, hypnotic voice.

But I do not know the address

Where my mother stays

What’s more, she’s fast asleep,

Unable to pick up the phone.

“Long-distance operator here. To which country

Are you exactly trying

To reach?”

How should I respond?

Heaven… what postal code?

Hell… which district?

The impatient operator

Hangs up,

Leaving me with

A phone cord or

An umbilical cord.

And even if I reached her,

What could I possibly say

“Ever since you left, this world

Is no longer recognisable.

The only thing that has not changed

Is the eternal gratitude I have for you.”

Parting at Night

(Translated by Hao Yang)

Inch your eyes closer to mine,

Let me gaze again at the stars that twinkle in the sea.

Whence comes the tide that smudges starlight?

Are they teardrops, are they yours or mine?

By your earlobe, your silky hair swims in the wind,

And in turn, the moonlight ebbs and flows through it;

My soul trembles, just like the moonlight,

Like a falling leaf bidding farewell to an autumnal tree.

As saplings grow watered by summer showers,

The budding shoots, just falling in love, in my tears secretly grow.

Until they have grown into old giant trees,

Who knows where the gentle hands that planted them have gone!

Your back vanishes into the black of night, and discreetly

I hear the closing of the doors of heaven.

I am Altair without his Vega,

Accompanied only by a lamenting reed.

Happy New Year! Hao Yang reads 'April 17, Sunday' by Jee Leong Koh, and discusses it with Jovan.

Cover Artwork: Morning Sun, 1952 by Edward Hopper

Happy New Year! Jovan reads 'First Date' by Cyril Wong and discusses it with Hao Yang.

Happy new year! In this episode, Jovan and Hao Yang share their 2022 reflections and hopes for 2023. They then read and discuss 'April 17, Sunday' by Jee Leong Koh and 'First Date' by Cyril Wong, both poems being attempts at seizing control of one's narrative and moving on, be it the wrestling back of hope and agency in Jee's disaffected 'April 17' or the rewriting of an ended relationship to seek closure.

Cover Artwork: Edward Hopper's Morning Sun, 1952; photograph taken by Hao Yang in Haw Par Villa

Those lips that Love’s own hand did make