Singapore-born Chow Teck Seng writes poetry primarily in Chinese. Frequently contributing to literary journals, anthologies and the Chinese press in Singapore and abroad, he has won awards such as the Singapore Literature Prize (2014) and Golden Point Award (2009). His poems in English translation are found in & Words: Poems Singapore and Beyond (2010), Union: 15 Years of Drunken Boat, 50 Years of Writing from Singapore (2015), SG Poems 2015–2016 and the online journal, Poetry at Sangum. They have also been adapted as short films by students of Lasalle College of the Arts in 2017. A former lecturer (in Chinese-language literature) at the National University of Singapore and National Institute of Education, he is currently pursuing a PhD at Cambridge University.
The following poems were previously published, without the English translation, in Chow Teck Seng’s Poetry of You and Me (Lingzi Media, 2012).
轮回
时间是一条狗
一张 大口
即咬去 月的肚腩
于是每个晚
都注定是个新的缺口
还好，就十五天
月又养得白白胖胖
我们好象月
全身有被狗咬的伤口
Recycle
Time is a mongrel,
its wide-open mouth
gnawing at the belly of the moon.
So every night is
predestined for a new gaping hole.
But all’s well, just 15 days
the moon is fair and fattened again.
We are like the moon,
wounded by dog-bites all over.
(Translation by Yong Shu Hoong)
~
饮食山水
三碗两碗
左手 一下撑起
雪山雪山
饭粒竟成雪屑飘飞
遇嘴而化
右手 则两下闪电
抓起满口饭
半个冰山劈开
偶然一匙汤水
自花瓷大碗
江海江海
油光涟滟，肉岩顿成天堑
泄流山腰逶迤而入
谁以春夏秋冬四法烹煮
则三两碟小菜 挥洒间
像蝶飞花丛
豆骸残肢斜斜飞出
花红叶绿一下被席卷而去
你意犹未尽
晴空打了个闷雷
手搓搓鼻梁
谈笑间 汤水成骤雨
山山水水
花花草草
一切尽在虚无飘渺间
Eat Drink Mountain River
Three or two bowls
are hoisted by left hand in one move.
Snowy mountain, snowy mountain –
the rice grains waft like snow flakes
dissolving in mouth.
Right hand, in two claps of lightning,
claws up a mouthful of rice,
splitting apart the mountain of ice.
The occasional spoonful of soup
is extracted from a large porcelain bowl.
The river, the river
ripples with an oily sheen; meat boulders as moats
the water wades past mountain-slopes to gush in.
Who would use the four seasonal styles of gastronomy
on two or three appetisers? Wavering
like butterflies among flowers,
broken husks scatter, only to be
whisked away with red petals and leaves.
Your cravings not yet fulfilled,
thunder reverberates from the blue.
A hand rubs the bridge of a nose.
As casual conversation ensues, soup becomes sudden storm:
Mountain, river,
flower, grass…
Everything fades into nothingness.
(Translation by Yong Shu Hoong)