Shaojia Mountain, shrouded in mist, opposite Zhongshan Hospital, Nanjing, China, Planet
Earth, The Universe, where Ma Yongbo马永波 is a patient
the poet as morning Nanjing mist—for Yongbo
诗人如南京的晨雾——致永波
In Shaojia light, the distilled and blurring forest wondering,
the poet slips his dawn anchor and dew moisture gathers
on his brow.
He slips like a sugar cloud condensing above red lettering,
for there are days when even clouds must take the metro,
the door seal thin and opening as instantaneously for poet-clouds,
as it does for everyone.
His light escape suddenly greening with mountain birdsong;
the waking birds are louder than the manufactured dawn
of every other noise around them,
his upturned collar flowers as it wears their song.
31st March 2026
Yongbo is in hospital in Nanjing with diabetes and he lives near enough to the hospital to
slip out and go home briefly between his blood tests, although he is not supposed to leave.
“Breakfast is an egg, a steamed bun, and a box of milk.
Hunger is a necessary training. Fingers should be pricked eight times
a day to measure blood sugar” Ma Yongbo, WhatsApp, 31st March 2026,
messaged received in UK at 20:36 which means it is early morning in Nanjing,
as there is 8 hours between us.
Response Poetry by Helen Pletts 海伦·普莱茨
Response Poetry translated by Ma Yongbo 马永波
The Nanjing garden, China, Planet Earth, The Universe,
“A female neighbour, I don’t know her name, I only know that her major is garden design, and she potters about with flowers and plants all day long.” Ma Yongbo talking about the garden in Nanjing. Yongbo is in hospital in Nanjing with diabetes and he lives near enough to the hospital to slip out and go home briefly between his blood tests, although he is not supposed to leave. One of his early morning ‘escapes’ finds him standing in the birdsong filled greening garden.
Mountain birdsong in the Nanjing Garden of Ma Yongbo马永波
https://www.youtube.com/shorts/BVlwuQjSiCc
诗人如南京的晨雾——致永波
the poet as morning Nanjing mist—for Yongbo
在韶光里，那片被提纯又渐渐模糊的林野恍惚着，
诗人悄悄起了黎明的锚，
露水凝在他眉梢。
他如一团糖云，在红字上方缓缓凝聚，
因为有些日子，连云朵也得去挤地铁。
车门薄薄闭合，又倏然打开，
对诗人化作的云，一如对所有人。
他轻盈的逃离，忽然被山间鸟鸣染得青绿；
醒来的鸟儿，比周遭一切人造的黎明喧嚣
更为响亮。
他竖起的衣领，盛放着它们的歌声。
2026年3月31日
永波因糖尿病在南京住院。医院离家不远，他便趁测血糖的间隙偷偷溜回家片刻，尽管这并不被允许。
“早餐是一个鸡蛋、一个馒头、一盒牛奶。饥饿是必要的修行。
手指每天要扎八次测血糖。”
——马永波，WhatsApp，2026年3月31日
此消息于英国时间20:36收到，
彼时南京正是清晨，两地时差八小时。
海伦·普莱茨
‘Strolling About in Spring’ by Zhan Ziqian 展子虔, The Palace Museum, Beijing
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zhan_Ziqian
The only painting by him that survives today is Strolling About in Spring, which is a perspective arrangement of mountains. It has been cited as the earliest surviving work of Chinese landscape painting or the first shan shui, painting. The art of shan shui, like many other styles of Chinese painting has a strong reference to Taoism/Daoism imagery and motifs, as symbolisms of Taoism strongly influenced “Chinese landscape painting”. Some authors have suggested that Daoist stress on how minor the human presence is in the vastness of the cosmos, or Neo-Confucian interest in the patterns or principles that underlie all phenomena, natural and social lead to the highly structuralized nature of shan shui.
Helen Pletts 海伦·普莱茨, 25th March 2026, Cambridge, UK, Planet Earth, The Universe
Escape in the Morning Mist – Reply to Helen
晨雾中的逃离——答海伦
The nurse’s station in the early hours, a white lake
with only one small bird frozen stiff on its surface
even the rumbling little cart cannot break through
this stagnant, shared air. The world
has suddenly turned into a silent hospital
gliding on a limited sheet of thin ice.
Nowhere to escape. Unless one knows the language of all things.
Across the way, Shaojia Mountain trails its pale green spring,
breathing, rising and falling, swallowing mist.
Neither mountain nor mist will show me special mercy,
a whole country lies between them and me.
There is no wisdom to be found here.
My soul must wait for my body.
My soul runs too fast, forgetting
that when parted too long, the body turns to ruin.
I will stay here, distilling the morning mist instead,
after all, someone still needs this emptiness of mine.
March 31, 2025
Endocrinology Ward, Zhongshan Hospital, Nanjing, Ma Yongbo
Response Poetry by Ma Yongbo 马永波
Response Poetry translated by Ma Yongbo 马永波
Ma Yongbo马永波, 28th March 2026, Nanjing, China, Planet Earth, The Universe
晨雾中的逃离——答海伦
Escape in the Morning Mist – Reply to Helen
凌晨的护士站，一片白色的湖泊
只有一只小鸟冻僵在水面上
连骨碌碌的小推车也无法打破
这凝滞的共享的空气。世界
突然成了一座无声的医院
在有限的冰面上滑动
无处可逃。除非懂得万物的语言
对面的邵家山拖曳着淡绿的春天
呼吸，起伏，吞吐着雾气
山和雾都不会对我格外开恩
我和它们隔着一个国家的距离
这里没有什么智慧可言
我的灵魂需要等待我的身体
灵魂跑得太快了，忘记了
分开太久，身体会变成废墟
还是留在这里，提纯晨雾
毕竟，还有人需要我的这份虚无
2025年3月31日于南京钟山医院内分泌病房
马永波
Zhongshan Hospital (front view), Nanjing, China, Planet Earth, The Universe, where Ma Yongbo马永波 is a patient
Zhongshan Hospital (side view), Nanjing, China, Planet Earth, The Universe, where Ma Yongbo马永波 is a patient
All images under individual copyright © to either Ma Yongbo 马永波 or Helen Pletts 海伦·普莱茨
.