WONG SIN

  I wrote my first poem during the change from winter into spring in 2016.
I have never considered myself good at expressing things in words, and I am shy around crowds. Perhaps these writings can speak in my place. The world is always turbulent and crowded; not everything turns out as one wishes or appears clearly before us. When facing a world so vast, one can sometimes become the passive party.
  For me, poetry is the spark that sets all inspiration in motion. It transcends the limits of matter, space, and time, moving freely between reality and imagination, while also serving as a process of inward reflection. At times, it gives voice to a soundless sound, striking with a rhythm full of motion; at others, it hums an unending, lingering tune. Of course, words have their limitations. Poetry is not something to be viewed with the eyes alone—the heart is essential and indispensable.
  At certain times, poetry is like grasping a rope that has fallen from somewhere high above while stranded in the middle of a boundless sea. Though I do not know where following that rope may lead, I can feel, with certainty, its firm and steadfast texture. These fifty-five poems were selected from work written over five years. Poetry changes along with a person’s experiences and feelings; that, too, is one of its interesting qualities.
  The title Echo Valley comes from Li Shutong’s Collection from the Late Qing: “The world is an echo valley: what the heart cannot forget will surely receive a response.”
  Willpower is the easiest thing to defeat. Yet as long as one remains unwavering, it is like a voice called out within a cave or mountain valley—answering both oneself and the world at some unknown moment in time.
  Summer 2021