Tomb-sweeping Day
Closure iron fences and barbed wires
Altogether barred every possible ways
To pay sacrifices and respect to Sires
In tombs out there on the pine hillside
Traditions observed for millennia
Filial duty to pious Ancestral worship
All stopped by an official prohibition
In prevention of spring forest fires
What about the paid national holiday
Specially set off for tomb-sweep visiting
People used to burn incense at ancestral shrine
Nonstop, for blessing for posterity
And now what? The old saying goes
Broken incense means broken family line
郎骑竹马来
Lovers turn around at the fence wistfully
Though the wild flowers out there are so lusty
Gentlemen walk along as if on defense
To peep over fences is unsaintly offence
Many a stroller pause to sigh and complain
“what an enchanting wood out there, in vain!”
“No trespassing!” signboard shouts, “Forbidden!”
As if the outer hills exclusive Garden of Eden
Then out of nowhere comes a pauper boy
Riding a bamboo stick for his horse toy
At some whim he stops short, as if wooed
Dropping his horse to squeeze trough it
In no time he is out there, picking berries
And plums and flowers, to his heart’s content
Fences keep in the decent
And let out the innocent
Habitat chartered
The public lawn in front of the apartments
Is soon divided into patches of segments
That are made the best use by the hosts
A square of lettuce, two rows of leek
String beans on racks, fences of grape vine
Loofah apes beard crawl along laundry line
Fig trees have grown into canopy
Under which sit unseen old man or dame
Watching out their shrine
Whenever I pass by I got a defensive stare
But the fruits and flowers are so entice
I cannot go by without a desirous notice
As if a saint that never look sideways
My eye would eat the flowers and fruits
My senses drink in the fragrance
My heart lamenting on the common land
Now have turned to possessive hand
Years ago this place was a a field of wheat
And before that a wilderness free for weeds
Who knows what years later it will be
The habitat, the private gardens, or you or me
Our planet is mainly of the Main
That dotes the continents and isles
As the blue floats clouds and rain
But coasts every where miles and miles
Are enclosed by customs and guarded
As every hill and rill is wired and barricaded
Even this beach we every day pace
Is soon to be barred and charged
This once free orb is all chartered
That may be why we seek outer space
When did all this encampment commence
God did not create walls nor any fence
People fence people in
As if they keep the seas out