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Hetalia Hong Kong - Blog Posts
ๆฐๆฅๅฟซๆจ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐งจ๐งจ๐๐๐๐งจ๐๐งจ๐๐๐๐๐๐งจ๐๐งง๐งง๐งง๐งง๐งง๐งง๐งง๐ฅณ๐ฅณ๐ฅณ๐ฅณ๐ฅณ๐ฅ๐ฅ๐ฅ๐ ๐งง๐๐งง๐งง๐งง๐งง๐งง๐คฉ๐ ๐๐ ๐ซถ๐ผ๐ซถ๐ผ๐งง๐ ๐งง๐๐๐งง๐๐๐งง๐๐งง๐๐งง๐๐งง๐งง๐งง๐งง๐งง๐งง๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐
็ฅๅคงๅฎถ่ไพ้่ฝ๏ผๅ่่จ้๏ผๆ่ๆๅพ๏ผ่ๆฟไน็ฉฉ๏ผ่่ๅฆๆ๏ผไธ่ไบ้ณฅ๏ผ้ญฏ่็ฟป่บซ๏ผๅฅฝ่ๆ้๏ผ่ฑ่กฃ่ถณ่๏ผ่้บผๆ่ณ๏ผ่็ฆ่ฎ่ฑ๏ผ่้บผๆๆฏ้ฉ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ฅ ๐ฅ ๐ฅ ๐ฅ ๐ฅ ๐งง๐งง๐ฅ ๐งง๐ฅ ๐งง๐ฅ ๐งง๐ฅ ๐งง๐ฅ ๐งง๐ฅ ๐งง๐งง๐ฅ ๐งง๐งง๐งง๐งง๐งง๐งง๐งง๐งง๐งง๐งง๐งง๐๐๐๐๐งง๐งง๐งง๐งง๐ฆโ๐ฅ๐๐ฆโ๐ฅ๐ฆโ๐ฅ๐๐๐๐๐๐งง๐งง๐งง๐งง๐งง๐งง๐งง๐งง๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐งง๐งง๐๐งง๐๐ฆโ๐ฅ๐๐ฆโ๐ฅ๐๐งง๐ฆโ๐ฅ๐งง๐๐ฆโ๐ฅ๐๐ฆโ๐ฅ๐งง๐ฆโ๐ฅ๐๐ฆโ๐ฅ๐งง๐ฆโ๐ฅ๐ฆโ๐ฅ๐๐ฆโ๐ฅ๐งง๐ฆโ๐ฅ๐๐ฆโ๐ฅ๐ฆโ๐ฅ๐ฆโ๐ฅ๐งง๐ฆโ๐ฅ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐งง๐งง๐งง๐๐งง๐๐งง๐๐๐๐งง๐๐ค๐งง๐ค๐๐ค๐งง๐ค๐๐ค๐๐คฉ๐ค๐๐ค๐คฉ๐๐คฉ๐คฉ๐๐คฉ๐คฉ๐๐คฉ๐๐๐๐๐๐
Remnants of Victoria
โI do not feel a strangerโฆas it is for the vivid colour and movement of its densely packed life and for the beauty of its sceneryโฆโ
Queen Elizabeth II, 1975
Two, three years ago, you said,
โThe source of life will move in cyclesโ,
with the map of the whole world in your grasp
island away from the Harbour.
On your tongue, I said
that โHere, like now, thereโs nothing specialโ,
compared to the meanders of yours
all belonging to the same source.
She changed. Far from what it belongs.
You would know. I never saw.
Near the rivers of foreign castles, I lie
with my tongue tied, with statues of strange saints,
the taste of white chalk clung with the winds of cold rain
once dwelled and rose from the Pacific.
You belong me, she says.
I can taste it all. Perhaps I can taste it all.
A time ago before I got to the sea
the drops of the green ferries
once trampled by Queens
drumming canons over burnt poppies
came back to your river, to my cup,
put onto my platter, a poster, a street, a shoulder, bus stop.
You claim her kaleidoscope lights. I paint her
Bright yellow, Glory, Smoke of the Dead.
You named her first, how it slips from my tongue,
how the People amended it with their words.
The water fills both my cups nicely.
I emptied my story, gulped tea, cycles buried
under feigned glamour and Blood Stars, eating up my land.
How would I know when it comes back to me?
How shall I see what all they have seen?
This is cage, the People sing.
Dwelling old rulers, entering new harbours.
They are drifting. Iโm just watching.
All that remains now is the rain. Here, you lie, she says.
I lie nowhere now. A glitch. A nobody,
pining away the century waters that ripped
apart two dreams.
็ฅๅคงๅฎถ้พๅนดๅคงๅฑ๏ผๅ็จ่ฌ้๏ผๅฟๆณไบๆ๏ผ็ๆดปๅฆๆ๏ผๅฅฝ้้พ็ธฝไพ๏ผ๐ฒ๐ฒ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ฒ๐๐ฒ๐๐ฒ๐๐ฒ๐๐ฒ๐ฒ๐ฒ๐๐ฒ๐คฉ๐คฉ๐คฉ๐ฅณ๐ฅณ๐ฅณ๐๐ฒ๐๐ฒ๐คฉ๐คฉ๐๐ฒ๐คฉ๐คฉ๐โค๏ธโ๐ฅโค๏ธโ๐ฅ๐๐ฒ๐
็ฅๅไฝๅๅ ไผผ้ฆ๐๐๐ฐ๐ฐ๐ฅณ๐งง๐งง