Pun Choi (Hong Kong Basin Feast)

Roast rice-duck and pan-fried prawns are always on top

Class order is precisely laid out in the layers

But the poking chopsticks gradually reverse

the prized five-spice chicken and lowly pigskin

The Sung army once sought shelter here in defeat

wolfed down the fishermen’s reserves from large wooden basins

dined on the beach in crude circles, with no elegance of the past

Far from the capital, they tried the rural folks’ wild flavors.

Unable to stay on top, it all collapses with the passing of time

Like it or not, there’s no escape from touching the colors on the bottom

no way to block the encounter between the humble mushroom and rare squid

Inverted relationships taint and affect the purity on top

Nobody can stop the meat juice from trickling down

the bottom-most turnip absorbs every flavor in all its sweetness.

Translated by Leung Ping Kwan. This poem appeared in The Politics of Vegetable, published by Oxford University Press, 2006. © Betty YY Ng