Congee Ghazal

細 個喺個舊屋煲電話粥
同Katie同Karen煲電話粥

媽咪話Dal:印度粥oats:鬼妹
話 媽咪話chia糕: 有錢人粥

近來租高山矮漫天大霧
以前多口吱吱噚噚食粥

應該育草育花生兒育女
我個心你個心亂一鍋粥

常常山病其實喺公主病
你唔識煮你去餐館買粥

When I was a girl living in the old house, I boiled phone congee
With 鬼妹 with 熟鯨, we ate phone congee

Mama says: Dal, Indian congee; oats, American congee;
chia pudding, a wealthy person’s congee

Big fog penetrates this heavenly stagnant city. Rent rises, I’m still short.
Once, there were many mouths here 吱吱噚噚食 eating congee

I should write drafts, plant flowers, bear sons, raise daughters
My anxieties and yours meet in a stockpot, stirring, becoming congee

San-San falls sick easily. Often, it’s Princess Syndrome, and
though you can’t cook, you still rush next door to buy the congee