Newsletter No. 41

CUHK Newsletter No.41 April 1993 An Evening of English and Chinese Poetry Reading TOLO LIGHTS Andrew Parkin, Professor of English, Fellow of Shaw College In the sea at Tolo the lamps of small boats shine by night, at once lonely and yet steady signals of the human presence in that watery darkness. On the shores across f r om the university, new lights shine from the foot of the hills. New developments leak light from the coast, light which shakes and shivers on the surface of the sea. From trucks, buses, cars, the smaller, moving lights endlessly confuse the orange beads of the street lamps above the Tolo Highway with a white and red dancing of head lamps and tail lights. I n a long, broad curve beneath the campus of The Chinese University, KCR trains come and go, mechanical serpents with eyes aglow by night, and disappear towards Kowloon or Lo Wu. And beyond the tracks, away from the sea, shine a few dim lamps in hidden houses planted among the trees, the creeping vines, and the great torn flags of the banana plants. And beyond the culvert, in a snug clump, there huddle village houses, spilling the lights of families, with here and there the red glow of a small shrine. Higher still, the white complex of Shaw College itself stands like some modern castle of the intellect, a haven for students and scholars, where the lamps of learning and youthful laughter shine, their energy the civilizing energy of the university itself. Above all, there are those other lights, the people themselves. Despite the cynicism that has become the predictable stock response of our materialistic century, every soul genuinely searching for wisdom is a flame as bright as the brief jets of fire which bloom in spring on the campus coral trees. On Wednesday, 10th March, at 7.30 p.m., in the new lecture theatre of Shaw College on The Chinese Un i v e r s i t y 's campus, all the lights were shining, and 'the leading lights', as the English say to compliment special and accomplished people, were the poets of Hong Kong, English and Chinese language poets, reading their poetry aloud together, in a spirit of comradeship. Why bring these poets together? Why n o t leave them q u i e t ly w r i t i n g and sometimes publishing their work, as they always do? In the first place, writing is a lonely business. Secondly, poetry has few financial rewards and has lost much of its audience to popular music, films, and television. Yet it needs an audience. Poets need an audience to help them find the kind of poetic voice to which an intelligent and alert member of the public can listen. Perhaps then public and poet meet one another h a l f - way by questioning, by dialogue, by a mutual recognition of humanity. The 15 poets involved had but a few minutes each to read but were given an opportunity to meet, listen to each other, and perhaps strike up literary relationships, a particularly significant fact, when we realize that the poets were drawn from the English language and Chinese language poets of Hong Kong, the evening taking its tone from the powerful presence of Yu Kwang-chung, arriving opportunely (as a guest of United C o l l e g e) amo ng poets o f d i f f e r e nt generations as well as cultures and national origins. It was a rare opportunity to hear Prof. Yu read a poem in both the original Chinese and his English version. He and Wong Wai-leung gave us the additional privilege of hearing them chant apoem each. It was a pity Gerard Tannam was unable to be there, because his own habit of singing at least one of his poems would have shown a wonderful link between the two traditions. The remarkable age-range of the poets was both exciting and, for me, a moving part of the evening. Here was life in its different phases expressing itself in verse of many kinds. It was moving, too, when the lovely, young Danish poet, Ulrikka Gernes, read one poem in her native language, before going on to read in English. Naturally, I was especially delighted when four first year English students rendered one of my own poems with great verve. A good deal of charm and atmosphere was created by the musicians who, under Dr. Greta Olson's direction, played so well for us. Poetry dwindles at each step it takes away from musicality; its forms may be many, but even free verse must have its phrasing, its breath, and its own unrhymed music. As one of the poets involved, I don't want to take on the role of reviewer; what I do want to say is that the audience was a large and responsive one, some of them having come considerable distances to hear poets reading their works. Thanks are due to them as well as to the other participants and organizers. T o l o Lights' - judging by the reactions at Shaw College - can kindle afuture beacon of poetry i n Ho ng Ko n g. Prof. Chen Char-nie has enthusiastically urged the idea of repeating the event next year. T h e e v e n i n g, i n c l u d i ng s i mp le refreshments in the interval,was, like all the best things in life, free, because Shaw College kindly gave its lecture theatre over to poetry last 10th March; because the departments of Chinese, English, and Music collaborated with the college administration; and the poets waived any fee for an event that could turn out to be an historic moment in the history of poetry in Hong Kong. Some record of that moment exists in the video and sound recordings, the booklet of poems prepared for the audience, and the memories of those who were there. Poets, in order of appearance, were Yu Kwang-chung (first and last), Ulrikka Gernes, Robert Allinson, Lawrence Wong, Jeremy Hardingham, Louise Ho, Cheung Hoi-pang, Andrew Parkin, Cheung Siu-por, Liam Fitzpatrick, Wong Wai-leung, Brent Ambacher, Chor K o o n - f a i, M i c h e le Chase, and Wo ng Leung-wo. Prof. Yu summed it all up when he remarked that 'the ice has been broken.' Shine out, Tolo Lights! 10