For the first twenty years, I am a bird, chirping around my Mum,
And know that she has never taken my words seriously.
Oh, how happy I am, as a bird.
For the next twenty years, I am a clam, keeping my Dad at bay,
And know that she does never persuade Him, but I still love my Mum.
"Till Death Do My Lips Part" is a game which I have never played well,
For my stomach makes noises in due time, and the weather is cutting cold;
I’ve tried in vain to bite off my tongue.
For the twenty years that follow, I talk with my Dad, man to man,
And know that he has been equating arrogance to reverence.
The last twenty years of my life, I am too old to say anything;
With only a granddaughter taking me to an occasional walk,
Whatever sound I make will be blown away in the wind.
June 2, 2009
For over two weeks already, this blog website has been blocked by Chinese government, for the day after tomorrow is coming back again for its twentieth anniversary. Chinese poeple have been tongueless about it for twenty years already, and it seems that this year there is some noise or voice about it. A few days ago, I planned to keep silence for a fortnight, but still I cannot just tie up my tongue.