Poetry from Mei Du



A long horn

travels from the other side of the city

to the window of my bedroom.

I know

These are horns

from the freighters.

The distant sound

covers my bedroom,

as well as the world outside,

where trains run and vehicles rush,

where people come and go.

The roads and streets are not so far away.

They are right there

outside my screen window,

through which the sounds seep into

and slowly sink in my room.


For a lot of nights,

my window screen worked as a radio.

From it, I heard the small rain hitting the roof, the

rustling sound of a television, the

soft crying of a baby, and someone’s

bedclothes fluttering in the wind, and sometimes,

the crisp sound of flipping on a light switch…


For how many nights,

I fell


with the background music of the bustling city.