Dept. of English/ Univ. of Malaya
Kuala Lumpur.
kennedy + asian morning western music
poems by the phong
TRANSLATED BY DAM XUAN CAN
THE POEMS reprinted here are taken from a mimeographed collection of poetry by the Vietnamese The Phong, entiled Vietnam : the sky under the flames, published in Saigon in May 1967. The colle tion was obtained for TENGGARA by the young writer Bur Rasuanto, who was on a visit there recently.
The Phong was born in 1932 at Nghie Lo, Yen Bai, and spent his childhood in the nothernmo part of Vietnam. He took part in the resistance at an early age and has been a farmer, soldier, school teacher and editor, besides writing stories, poems and critiques. Dam Xuan Can in presenting his English translation of The Phong's poems in Vietnam: the sky under firea and flames, wrote, " The Phong's poems are particularly difficult to translate,ans I have no illusions whatever about my commandof English. I trust that one day a poet of talent will revise this version and do more justice to the original Readers are bound to feel that Dam Xuan Can do not himself justice. TENGGARA
Kennedy
In a whole morning
I wander
casting a glance at the sea
and the horizon
counting every quarter of an hour
while the sun appears and disappears
on the waves
my very sadness
refuses to go
I wonder whether there is any meaning of life
in the wood Our Lady with imnumerable pebbes
in this place I find no solace at all
the see today is sad like me
furious waves do not cease rolling
and breaking on lonely rocks
and rocks seem to be shattered to pieces of russet color
thousand of years ago
at the beginning of the universe
probably this hill was part of the sea
will billows roaring
after so long a time
now a lone man
I walk slowly, sadly
up and down this place
visit friends and inanimate things
and then depart once more
Sitting in the evening shop, waiting to be served
looking at nude pictures on the wall
and hearing Western music
suddenly I realise
Christmas is coming soon
in this ravaged land
the hostess
after collecting money
leaves the counter
goes into the kitchen
to prepare roast fish
yesterday the duty cook
went to the training camp
women replace men in all matters
except for being husbands
I begin to weep
over my lonely state
o my love
are you happy away from me
today
for dinner
I will eat more
thinking of your beautiful hands and body
I'll smile in tears
Do you know
in this time of civil war we all haves burning pains
let us turn away
not to see the obscene scene
a naked G.I.
shows his contempt for prostitutes
by going out of the bathroom
without a dress on
a wife turns away, looks at the husband and waits for him to react
head bowed
he goes on sipping his soft drink
aware that the blue-eyed soldier
thinks all Vietnamese women are keen on seeing naked bodies
in fact his beastly attitude should only shame
compatriots of hero Abraham Lincoln
whose statue was carved on a great mountain
as for me I remember the photo of Kennedy
hero of the world with floating hair
assassinated not long ago
since then Vietnamese youths
night after night
look at his picture hung over the bed
feel respect and love for him
champion of New Frontier Policy
o the obscure jingle fall o petty things
only make prostitutes laugh
professionally
I will never forget the morning
I came to the cage-like shop
surrounded by wires for fear of terroist activities
there were four at a table
three Americans and a Viet woman
they seemed to be gallant like Europeans
I sincerely thought so
until the little waiter brought as small plate full of cheese
he stuttered in front of an American
"she orders this
gentleman
why you shake your head"
not knowing what had happened
the Viet prostitute wen on laughing and talking
even after she admitted she had ordered this extra thing
her lover still shook his head
I felt sorry although I had breakfasted twice
now I know another characteristic of a leading nation in the world
the American woman has her own purse even after she is married
this Vietnamese woman, the prostitute turned temporary
and profitable wife
has no money nad has begged for a breakfast in vain.
The memory of the G.I. opening the door
of the bathroom to let women appraise his body aches me
for him Americanism simply means this miserable husband
with gold-rimmed spectacles who
walks in the direction of the G.I.
and speaks so softly as if saying prayers
I at first take him to be a pimp
but after the quarrel breaks out
I understand the weeping womenis his legitimate wife
one afternoon
she left Saigon for the fresh see air
but only to feel all the humiliation of her people
After the G.I. gets out to consult his friends
on how to right his grevious wrong
he walks in
the red cap on his head
losing his arrogance he says softly
"I'm sorry
I'm really very sorry
please accept my apologies..."
then a firm handshake with the husband
as an acknowledgement of friendship
like the handshake insignia printed on aid bags
"I'm sorry for thinking all Vietnamese are prostitutes
and dollars could buy everything"
Still another story
every time the interpreter goes on leave
he see on the highway
a love- starved G.I. simply brandishes his dolla coin
to find the woman he could go ahead with
in my war-town land
every night
flares shine bright in every corner of the country
deafening sounds of artillery disturb further
uneasy sleeps of war-weary people
never have I found the image of any man more shining than Kennedy's now his image
fades out as bubbles
on the immensity of water
the wind in his hair
he seems to weep
at the Kennedy Square in Saigon
the man whose wife was mistaken as a prostitute by a man
of Kennedy's nationality
cannot fight back his bitter tears
Christmas night
stars are shinning brightly
on the Saigon Basilica
everything is shrouded in the fog of shame
war
and
war ...
cap Saint Jacques
21st December, 1965
Asian morning Western music
to VU THI TY
This morning like any other morning
I open the eyes, stretch to greet the flame red sunrays
which have burned the rancour in me for thirty years
love now is sweet, sour and bitter
I cannot remain thoughtless before the big cup of black coffee
part of our diet in the barracks
looking at my lean sihouette
on the hot sands
I sadly think my only amusement in eating rice
dearer to me than my sweetheart's caresses
let me live more days of despair and sweat
hour by hour my people are increasingly
suffering the war fever
in the sound and fury of mortar fire, tanks and jet- fighters
rosy lips of beautiful women glisten amidst war
a young soldier ruins his future
with the hostess in the cafe on the beach too keen on betrayals
watching her guests with experienced eyes she orders drinks on
their behalf
what will be left in us after years of war
countless rosy lipped youths have died to
preserve bright eyes of yours
I am but a perfect stranger
last night I lived in my utmost
this morning
I feel ten years older
beautiful love is love in the morning
love
late in the night
is nasty
the European female singer with paasionate voice
makes me feel like crying
tapping the thin female dog lying at the road side
a G.I. pushes the door in
while I am sitting at this table in write verse
to bury sad days
the mountain not far from me has witnessed
the twenty-year long desultory war
1943
Japanese troops dug trenches for ammunition
1965
American troops rushed to Vietnam
with the ball point pen
I write line after line
on the sea at Vung Tau
are ships and carriers
last night there was a hilarious party
for Vietnam , U.S. New Zealand, Australia, the Philippines,
Free China and South Korea
this is why I am often mistaken for another
even by a South Korean girl
I am Vietnmese, I am not a Korean
my skin is yellow and I want to defend my country
as any of my friends of other races
I look in her eyes
as if to tell her we should put old conflicts out of our mind
and carry on a new life for all of us
the European singer's voice has shattered me
in Eo Quan Vung Tau five years ago
O sweet memory always dear to me
it had been flooding back into my consciouness
to me any Vietnmaese girl is lovable
this is precisely why i worry
because weeping cadets
torment me prior to time of departure
o young soldiers
you will go and I will stay in the training camp
for how long I cannot tell
after your departure
head down I cry my eyes out
on account of communion the iron bed sweats
nothing is more precious than highly exalted love
between youths of twenty and thirty
who meet amidst the futy of fire
as none will bathe twice
in the same river
we will never meet again
like this -- the graduation night
of us all on the sands
dunes and hills crumble away
and the moon shines not for our enjoyment
after your departure
I look around
in the studying, eating an sleeping rooms
there is nothing left on the floor but desks and chairs
and rubbish
there are women to entertain us for a moment
but I count on you
so that later on when I become an old man
leaning on the stick
I will sing of memories as a young man
O youths dying with heads broken
where is peace that we eill long for
later
of course
I can't meet all of you
an army is complete
only before the battle
who will be missing
o my dear brothers my loved ones
Birds warnings in the morning in the dreamlike coffea
arabica flower garden
dry brown terminalia leaves grace the pebble-covered lanes in the park
an old man with white hair and beard
walking past, leaning on the stick
is myself after years
and sounds of music begin wounding my heart
I pray, I pray
so that everything will be all right
and the rosy lips of the bar hostess will not hasten to fade
the lamps on the room will remain lighted
these things, however trivial
all contribute to our happiness
o my love
I am is the sulks on account
of your not so sincere words
though it is my understanding
women speak these in spite of themselves
o young lovers of tomorrow
do understand that insincerity is part of the love play
the Siamese cat with yellow fur lies in the sun
makes me think of a loving hand's caresses
you are walking in my heart
your lips and velvety eyes, though distant awakes me
I'll surely love our first child
whether son or daughter
without you
how miserable I am
you still remember don't you
the golden afternoon you sat at my side
the setting sun
partly hidden by my helmet
my sunny smile is for you
in lieu of suffering people
love, though noble, is very selfish
but what can I do
when I am but a man
at thirty I love you
my love as ripe as bananas with tart-shaped dots
when autumn comes Hanoians have tears in their eyes
I met and loves you at Saigon and Vung Tau
the salty wind of the sea has been the witness of our love
we'll pass another winter
but don't you see spring is coming round again
and very soon
nature will be renewed
like our love today
we'll be happy
we'll be sad
my love, do feel more rancour
the heritage of us two
is years of despair
o my love my love
in order to break our solitude
let us cry more
and strengthen our love
o my love my love
without me
will you cry
o my love my love
without you
what is left to me
and how can I go on writing
to contribute to our literary heritage
lines of poetry
of bitter mornings and afternoons
surely our country
will lose a poet
with the name The Phong
the sun has risen high
and is shinning straight
into my eyes
music is also fading away
in the morning cafe.
cap Saint Jacques
23rd November, 1965
the phong
<TENGGARA- Vol. 1 -No.2/ 1968 - p. 1-12>
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