calling the wandering souls by nguyễn du/ translated by lê hiếu (hanoi)

we promise one another - poems from an asia war
selected,  published by don luce + j.c. schafer + j.chagnon
-Washington D.C., 1971

                          calling the wandering souls 
                                                 by  nguyễn du 

                                          TRANSLATED  FROM THE VIETNAMESE INTO ENGLISH  BY LÊ HIẾU *


  American military and political leaders could also have profited from reading Nguyễn Du's " Calling the Wandering Souls."  It would have helped them to realize the intense alienation to realize the intense alienation that refugee programs cause.  No people like to be moved from their homes, but for Vietnamese it is especially painful, for their leave their homes means also to leave the graves of one's ancestors.  Vietnamese believes that it is important to be close to the graves of their ancestors, so they can tend to them  and offer pryres that their dead ralatives may rest in peace.   People who die before they have a family and have no one to look after them in death, nad have no fixed grave are objects of great pity.  These are the unfortunate "wandering souls" that Nguyễn Du calls to in his poem.  In Vietnam where so many people die young with no families of their own, where one third of the population had been moved at least once, nd where so many families have been split up, there are many wandering souls, and the Vietnamese worry about them and pray for them as Nguyễn Du did so many years ago.                   DON LUCE


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*   "Calling the Wandring Souls " was taken from 'NGUYỄN DU AND KIỀU. '
      (Vietnamese Studies No. 4, Hanoi, 1965. Translated by Lê Hiếu.) 
      (DON LUCE' NOTE)


In this seventh month the rain is endless,
The cold penetrates into the dry bones, 
The autumn evening is mournful and sad,
The reeds are livid, the leaves of plane trees withered, 
In the twilight the birch trees are drooping,
The pear trees shrouded in mist,
Whoever can remain unmoved?
If the world of the living is so sad,
Much sadder must be the world of the dead.

In the utter darkness of the eternal night,
Appear, lost souls,  like will-o'-wisps, reveal our presence ! 
O poor beings, creatures of the ten categories,
Your abandoned souls are roaming in strange lands!
No incense is burning for you.

There were those who pursued riches 
Who lost appetite and sleep, 
With no children or relations to inherit their fortunes,
With no one to hear their last words.
Riches dissipate like passing clouds, 
Living they had their hands full of gold,
Departing from this world, they could take with them no single coin.

At their funeral, hired mourners feigned sorrow, 
The cheap coffins were hastily taken away in the night.
Lost souls, they roam the flooded fields 
Without any offering of incense or water.

There were those who sought academic honours leading to high places,
To the cities they went,  forsaking their native land.
But do arts and letters always bring success?
One day they lay sick in a roadside inn,
Without the love and care of their families.
Dead, they were hastily burried,
Far from the near ones and the ancestral land.

In an abadoned burrying ground they lie,
Their lonely souls wander,
Without being honoured by any offerings.

There were those who sailed on rivers and oceans,
To remote places, blown by the East wind.
A storm midway sent their ships to the botton
And they disappeared into the sharks' bellies.

There were  those who engaged in trade,
Their shoulders aching under the load of merchandise.
They died if exposure, far from home,
Their souls now wander along the road.

There were those who, conscripted,
Left their families for the service of the king.
Taken to distant lands,
They lived a life of privations and sufferings.

In war-time human lives are so cheap,
With sword nad fire sowing death
Their roaming will-of-the- wips, apparitions of their lost souls,
Make the scene still more mournful.

There were those who spoiled their lines,
Selling their charms and smiles.
Abandoned by all when youth was gone,
They had no husbands or children to support them.

In their life nothing but humiliation and sufferings,
After their death, only sufferings from kind strangers.
Pitiable was  the fate of these women,
Such was their destiny, no ones knows the reason.

There were those who spent their lives begging,
Sleeping under bridges, on the ground.
Yet, like others, they were human beings,
They lived on charity and now lie in roadside graves.

There were those victims of injustice,
Year after year they languished in jail.
Dead, they were buried somewhere near the prison wall.
For their shroud, only a tattered rush mat,.
Will their innocence ever be revealed?

There were the babies born in the unsuspicious hour
Who lived only a few moments.
There' s nobody now to carry them in her arms,
And heart-rending are their feeble cries.

There were those whose live were cut short
By drowning, failing from trees or into wells,
Those who were washed away by strong currents,
Who perished in fires,
Who were devoured by wolves or crushed by elephants.
There were those who gave birth to still born babies.
Who died from miscarriage, or from severe wounds.

Struck by fate midway on the path of life,
They followed each other to the other world,
Each with a different destiny,
Where are they now, those lost souls?
Somewhere they are hiding, maybe among the trees,
Maybe along the streams or among the clouds,
Maybe in the grass or in the bushes,
Or they are wandering aimlessly
By the roadside inns or inder bridges, 
Or they seek shelter in temples and pagodes
Maybe they are haunting markets or riverbanks
Or the barren lands, the knolls or the bamboo groves 
Misery was their lot in lifetime,
In the cold their corpses are now withering


Year after year exposed to wind and rain,
On the cold ground they lie, sighing.
At dawn, when the cock crows they flee,
Only to grope their way again when night comes.

  TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH BY LÊ HIẾU

        (WE PROMISE ONE ANOTHER - POEMS FROM AN ASIA WAR-  p.10- 14)