New People
For All New Born Babies.
On other day, new people born in new photo frame,
Somewhere they sleep with inert inspiring flame.
Old people cover with shredded clothes this day,
Decorate the simple hut with song and play.
New People! O, New People! View the new World;
And draw another day’s hopeful new Herald.
The fissure of dry soil touches the dry leaves;
Rain from the sky, and tear drops from cloud ribs.
Though the same, but between the different chess,
New People newly learn the old ritual dress.
Old people blow old clarinet again in the dawn,
New people turn to be old ——who stops to mourn?
New People! O, New People! View the new World;
And draw another day’s hopeful new Herald.
Nobody knows why the old conflicts with the new,
Nobody defines where the birth, when the death comes true.
‘To shine the Old in new glosses’ is the mission they chase,
Old and New people join elsewhere to embrace.
At the end of the day, they start a new old game
New people and Old people are always all the same.
New People! O, New People! View the new World;
And draw another day’s hopeful new Herald.
(2006)
A new baby was born and the others came to see the new face. The baby cried when it see the other unknown Old faces. Why did it cry? For thinking it will become old someday? Who knows? But the New baby is the hope who will follow the old rules and snatch the trophy of winning. Again the winner will be an idol and some one new will follow to run the hope. That’s the Old game for the new.
