***
At risk, by Tammy Ho Lai-ming
(From Eight Hong Kong poets. Hong Kong : Chameleon Press Book, 2015.)
And so it is true.
My shoes are torn and my toes show.
I'm not worried about the toe nails:
Long, hard. They follow nature's law.
People have already noticed me.
An unwanted street decoration.
I see from here where I squat
The sky is dimmed too early,
And children gather to eat ice-cream,
Their fingers chubby, neglectful, white.
I am vacant. They are full.
Listen! Are they gone? Now, the wind.
The wind is movement of air.
It is reciting something. You must believe me.
It recites people's secrets, sex, memories.
I don't want to know.
Tonight, I won't sleep, to match the stars.
And I pray for a quiet night.
Don't send me rain, don't send me men,
Don't send me rhythms or a dirty hand.
Don't.
***
Hennes poesi har nominerats till Pushcart Prize tre gånger och Forward Prize, och hennes översättningar har dykt upp i World Literature Today, Chinese Literature Today och Pathlight, bland andra ställen. Hon har en MP från University of Hong Kong och en doktorsexamen från Kings College London, och hon är för närvarande biträdande professor vid Hong Kong Baptist University, där hon undervisar poetik, skönlitteratur och modern dramatik. Källa: World Literature Today
*
Newest, hottest, tallest the most London
(From Eight Hong Kong poets. Hong Kong : Chameleon Press Book, 2015.)
You are my newest boyfriend
(the hottest, the tallest, the most
London) who is now in France.
You told me in an email (written in
haste, in an internet cafe):
Last Friday you spent three hours
on a bicycle. You put my photos
on the wheels; and I was traveling
with you. Crazy curly-haired you.
You liked the red ones.
You said I was at once like a playful
angel and a shameless whore.
(I deplore the comparison!
I'm only an innocent girl.)
When you stopped by the Seine,
some Parisians, mostly females, you said,
asked if they could buy my
photos. They took you as an artist
(a photographer?)
lost in paradise. 'No, no, no,' you said. 'The
photos aren't for sale.
My girlfriend is mine.'
Am I already?
Your girlfriend? Yours?
Then, you're my newest boyfriend
(the hottest, the tallest, the most
London) who is now in France.
***
I författarbeskrivningen från antologin går att läsa följande om Tammy:
Described as "a poet of tough love, tough being and with language powerful enough to match all that," Tammy Ho is also known to see "the beauty in all things, people and moments, and this beauty - in which the personal takes in the whole world - is what she celebrates in her poetry."
Source: Eight Hong Kong poets
*
Languages, by Tammy Ho Lai-ming
(From Eight Hong Kong poets. Hong Kong : Chameleon Press Book, 2015.)
South China Morning Post, an English newspaper, is delivered
To our doorstep every morning, and we let it
Stay until all other neighbours know
Our language abilities.
We dress well, even when taking out
The garbage or buying a San Miguel
From the store downstairs.
But let's not boast to our neighbours
How much more beautiful we are,
How much more intellectually-trained.
They don't care. They live less ambiguously. They speak
One dialect only. Already they are free
From feeling embarrassed when pronouncing
/r/ as /l/, /n/ as /l/ or /z/ as /s/. They don’t feel
Excluded when two real English speakers
Are in the same room, commenting on
Memoirs of A Geisha or
Bill Ashcroft’s postcolonial theories.
We dare not open our mouths, lest our strong HK
Accent betrays our humble origin. The terrible
Flatness of our tone, the inflexibility of our tongue.
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