Hong Kong
By Ai Qing
Like an ant nest ripped open,
A bustling and hectic scene.
High-rise buildings in multitude
Tower one above the other.
It seems as if a fire in the stove were scorching.
So hot as to make breathing difficult.
It seems as if a mixer were turning,
So noisy as to make one ill at ease.
Surprisingly crowded!
But
Through the space between houses
One can see hills
On which the sun shines upon houses.
In the air flyovers soar.
Cables through the clouds
Carry tourists to the Peak,
And those who seek pleasure
Are bustling about in the Ocean Park.
Formerly this was a mere beach,
Where peace and quiet prevailed under the moon,
Where fishermen's small boats
Were moored in the reeds.
All of a sudden it was chosen
As the fortress for an attack.
Then like a miracle
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