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NAN LIAN GARDEN, HONG KONG

Introduced by Jason Eng Hun Lee

Nan Lian Garden, a Tang Dynasty style garden surrounded by highways and skyscrapers in the middle of Kowloon. The gardens themselves sit adjacent to the Chi Lin Nunnery, which maintains the park and its surroundings. Being Hong Kong, the gardens are also a stone’s throw from an MTR station (Diamond Hill) and a major shopping mall (Hollywood Plaza) so there’s the zen-like peace and tranquillity juxtaposed with the frenetic consumerism. The gardens are open from early morning to night-time - I personally find it best in the evenings, when the hordes of mainland tourists are not there and there’s an eerie glow about the place, which seems to make it come alive. There’s also the meditative if slightly kitsch music that they play on carefully hidden loudspeakers which, combined with the sound of rushing water, helps to add another audio component to the walk around the gardens. 

 

Sunset at Nan Lian

At day’s end you find your way here again
as if in ghostly afterthought,

unburdening yourself at the temple gates
in slow, ritual easing of your fears.

And why have you come here? What do you seek
in these bowers that call you from yourself?

Between columns of stone and bonsai trees
you repeat familiar paths round the mind’s pavilion.

All is in order here, all is set right –
the wind coursing gently across rooftops,

the strength of stone up against banyan and pine,
the clouds all white and luminous.

And after the sun descends, even the cricket
stops to dwell in the eeriness, the shadows fall

as roots thickens beneath your feet
and the lily pond engulfs you in its solitude –

and you find yourself truly alone at last
at the centre of your world

wondering at the point of it all, the love and pain
you keep locked within you still.

The zither and flute from loudspeakers
lower to a conspiratorial echo

bringing forth past sorrows and remembrances.
Is this your own song breaking free from your head?

Still your elegies will not come out of hiding.
Beyond, no distant mountains now but human tenements,

a thousand souls trapped like fireflies in their own lights,
lost and helpless against night’s infinite gloom.

You turn, wondering if you will ever find your peace –
and then, despite the imperfection of your surroundings

you sense it – the slanting rock, the rushing waters,
the symmetry of branches bowing in submission –

between the harmony of this wood
and the monumental numbness you have suffered

you can no longer deny the keening of your heart,
what you feel inside this raging city.

by Jason Eng Hun Lee

மறுப்பிறப்பு

பொன்சாய் மரங்களின் பச்சையும் 
'டங்' மன்னர்களின் கூடார்த்தின் பொன் நிறமும் 
ஆற்றில் எங்கும் பிரதிபலிக்கிறது

தொலைவில் 
வாகன நெரிசலின் சப்தங்கள்
அதைத்தாண்டி தங்கக் கூடுகளில்
அன்னியர்களின் நிறமற்ற பிம்பங்கள்

கூடியும் 
தனித்தும் 
தினசரி பழக்க வழக்கங்களைத் தொடரும்
அவர்களின் நாடகமும் மெளனப் படமாக 
ஒளிபரப்பாகிறது 

பளிங்குக் கற்களால் அலங்கரிக்கப்பட்ட 
நடைபாதைகளிலும் 
கோயிலின் வாசலிலும் 
காலணிகளுடன் எனது
நிழலையும் விட்டுச் செல்கிறேன் 

காலைக்காக காத்திருக்கிறது இருதயத்துடிப்பு
விடியும் அந்நொடியில் 
நானும் பிறந்திட பிராத்திக்கிறேன்

Rebirth

The shade of green from the bonsai trees 
And the specks of gold from the Tang Dynasty pavilion are reflected in the river

At a distance 
Past the bustling sounds of traffic 
We witness the colourless shadows of strangers
In gold cages 

Together 
And apart, 
They act out the sequence of daily life 
Like a silent movie 

In the pathways adorned by marble 
Outside the temple
I leave my shoes 
Along with a shadow of myself 

The heartbeat waits for the morning 
I pray too 
To be born again  
At the moment of dawn

by Harini V
translated from the Tamil by Harini V

PLAYGROUND NEAR EAST COAST PARK, SINGAPORE

Introduced by Harini V

Playgrounds are quintessential to most Singaporean neighbouhoods. Usually there would be a playground similar to the one featured in the picture near a HDB flat, apartment or neighbourhood park. One picture was taken in the morning and one in the evening. The first picture captures a child cycling around the neighbourhood crossing the empty playground and the second picture captures the moments of silence before all the neighbourhood children come to play. These scenes were captured in a neighbourhood in the east of Singapore (Bedok/Upper East Coast) and is located very near East Coast Park that is famous for cycling, its sandy beach and hawker centre that sells local barbequed favourites like satay. I took this picture because it was nostalgic of my childhood where I grew up in the east and spent most of my time sliding through a slide, on a swing or hanging onto the monkey bars. 


 

தேவதையின் சறுக்கு விளையாட்டு 

சொர்க்க வாசலிலிருந்து 
விழுந்த தேவதை 
கடற்கரையின் பக்கத்தில் உள்ள 
விளையாட்டு மைதானத்தில் வந்திறங்கியது 

பளபளக்கும் தன் இறகுகள் காற்றில் கரைந்தது 
நட்சத்திரங்கள் சூழ்ந்திருந்த அதன் கிரீடம்
வெப்பத்தில் கருகியது 

காலையிலும் மாலையிலும் 
குழந்தைகளின் ஆர்வமுள்ள கேள்விகள் 
விளையாட்டு மைதானத்தில் ஒலிக்கும் 
மிதிவண்டி ஓட்டும் சிறுகால்கள் இறகுகள் முளைத்து 
அங்கும் இங்கும் பறக்கும் 
வெயில் பாராமல் சறுக்கில் விளையாட 
முட்டி மோதிக்கொண்டு காத்திருக்கும் 

அவ்வேளைகளில் மரத்தின் உச்சக் கிளைகளில் அமர்ந்து
சூரியக் கதிர்களை சற்றே மூடி மறைக்கும் அந்த தேவதை 

சீறும் மழையிலும்
பயமுறுத்தும் இடியிலும் 

பார்க்கும் திசைகளில் எல்லாம் 
வானவில் சறுக்கி விளையாடும்

The angel’s slide

An angel falls
From the gates of heaven 
Landing in a playground 
Near a shore. 

Its shining wings dissolve into sea 
Its crown adorned with withering stars 

During day and dusk 
The children’s curious questions echo in the playground 
Their small legs grow wings 
And they fly from here to there to get on their bicycles 
They nudge each other oblivious to the heat
While they wait their turn for the slide 

During these times the angel sits 
On the trees’ tallest branches 
Hiding the sun’s rays gently 

Even in the searing rain 
Or the frightening thunder 

In every direction 
The rainbow played on the slide 

by Harini V
translated from the Tamil by Harini V

What Remains

Something is missing in this abandoned playground
of your childhood. At first, you feel it in the air –

how the swing heaves restlessly, heavy and bare,
reminiscing a child’s first ascent up to the clouds

or the tubular slide gushing out great gusts of wind 
and spiralling each note out one by one in its fluted cry,

or the luminescent bins empty, unfulfilled, starved
of candy wrappers and hastily-gorged sweets.

Even the trees yearn to throw protective shade
over the little birds as they hurtle and fly out across time.

Now, the deafening absence of laughter has the 
whole neighbourhood in lockdown – 

we hear only the faint tap of computer keys from apartment blocks,
feel the palms pressed against windows, the glum stares

awaiting the forecast of sunlight through branches,
remembering the innocent pursuits round posts.

Workers hurry past, eager to get somewhere else,
remembering only the bills they must pay, the mortgage check,

having forgotten that sprightly vault out from an earlier world.
What was missed in life’s journey. What remains.

by Jason Eng Hun Lee