— anonymous
Bicycles bid farewell to the setting sun,
Subways seek for the spring breeze.
Ten thousand miles over three years,
Yet never stepping out of Beijing.
通勤
— 佚名
单车辞落日，
地铁觅春风。
三年十万里，
未出北京城。
Note
This poem, in just 20 starkly simple characters, outlines the existence of the modern urban commuter. It is not a celebration of the Beijing city, but a lament for the individual’s constant, repetitive movement within the great city—movement that never constitutes true progress.
Riding home at dusk carries the weariness of a day’s work and a farewell to the daylight. The subway is an enclosed, crowded, mechanical space where “spring breeze” is naturally absent; the conscious choice to “seek” it there implies not only a longing for comfort and vitality but also hints at the futility of fulfilling such a longing during the commute. The gentle dawn, the spring breeze, the daylight—these simple, natural blessings become unattainable luxuries.
The numerical contrast in the latter two lines elevates the entire poem. The juxtaposition of “vast distance” and “limited scope” creates a powerful dissonance, which is its most poignant aspect.
A hundred thousand miles is an extreme distance, equivalent to walking more than a full lap around the Earth. These hundred thousand miles are not just spatial distance, but three years of our precious time—our faded youth.
One realizes, startlingly, that over three years, one has unwittingly traveled so far—far enough to traverse the entire globe. Yet, this seemingly immense journey has, in reality, confined the traveler within the fixed urban space. There is no true “departure” or “arrival,” only the cyclical commute between home and office. We are always on the way, yet the journey has never truly begun.
The poem never directly mentions “weariness” or “helplessness,” yet these emotions are hidden in the details. It captures the shared experience of countless city dwellers: shuttling through the urban landscape day after day, expending vast amounts of time and energy, yet ultimately living within a narrow orbit. It brings to mind a hamster running tirelessly on a wheel, except our wheel is invisible.
This “mobile confinement” is a microcosm of modern urban life—seemingly offering vast city spaces, yet rigidly framing individual movement within work and commute. The body is in constant motion, while the heart stays anchored.
This poem depicts the routine of present-day life while yearning for a poetic distance, for the beauty we once possessed but can ultimately no longer return to.
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