One of the first poems I wrote for some life events in Nov 2015.
三時四十五分，
我沒有容身之地。
騷亂平息的時候，
秃鷹們張開翅膀。
高傲的秃鷹群集，
爭先展示着羽翼。
指令下落，
節目按順序進行，
和諧得可怕。
假面在演員間傳遞，
卻沒人能將它戴上。
觀眾們以為自己是人，
他們不知道，
自己參加的是秃鷹的成人禮。
A quarter to four,
Position me nowhere.
As the riot ceases,
Wide open, wings of vultures.
Vainly, the flock,
Flaunt their feathers.
Orders come,
The program proceeds in sequence —
Awe-inspring — in harmony.
Actors passed around false faces,
Yet they are unfit for them.
The observers — misconceived — mistake themselves for humans.
Perhaps, they forgot,
It is their coming-of-age ceremony.