Nostalgia | Hongtao Chen ’22

Nostalgia

Living in the distant part, a smell of dust Reminds me of the hometown I deeply love. Surrounded by all walks of life, Wandering under Friday afternoon sunshine Were children on the old path-way, Singing yesterday’s Cantonese songs.

Composed of childish sounds, songs Depicted inside the land’s dust, On its doomed and destined way, Carried people’s passion and love. Under the washed-out 1980’s sunshine, Generations stood out and devoted their life.

Those with no name but secular individual life, Silently composing revolutionary songs Where gloominess takes away the sunshine, Glancing at the farm full of rice dust, Pushing away from the ties of the beloved Stepping on the never-turn-back way.

What a pity the recklessly decided way Some strive for money, some strive for life! Never mention the so-called in-heart Love That is only sung in children’s songs Damp and narrow, there is only sultry dust In this rental house that knows no sunshine.

Sweet air penetrated by shafts of sunshine Children wander on the cobblestone way, Picking up delicate flowers out of dust Overwhelming the greatness of life In the class, readings of poems and songs, Growing emotion for this land with love. Hongtao Chen ’22

Growing emotion for this land with Love Under the same euphoric sunshine. Gone are the old days, left are the songs. Briefly intense history was washed away, As well as countless mortals of Life Behind the rolling history wheels in dust.

What was fake was the song, which did not explain the meaning of love, But what was real was behind the dust, within the Tropic of Cancer, under sunshine. Each generation contributes in their own way, which highly differs but equals Life.

Owen Tatro ’24