prose poems by mai trung tĩnh - 6-
dai nam van hien books, australia 2014
prose poems by mai trung tĩnh
translated by dam xuan can
prose poems by mai trung tĩnh
dai nam van hien books, australia 2014
LONELINESS, DAY AFTER DAY
I learn with grief you have not thought of me even once. You keep alone your silence as time flits past and causes me so many sorrows. I am a victim of mockery day and night. Now I know I am the one to have the tree of griev grow no matter how many hopes I cherish every morning. My last friend in life are a wild tree branch and poisonous fruit. Even the deer and lowly plants leave me anguished like the tattered soul of the forest. Every cell of the scented pollen -- your hair of the olden times -- turns a messenger bird which breathes life to this universe. But life is harsh and blind enough to scare the bird away. It cries for help then flies away and my green spring is no more.
Heavy on my shoulder is the weariness of a bust condemned to the vain labour of coun-
ting cataclysmic changes ages ago. At a desperate moment, I broke away to join a party of South Pole explorers.
I must leave you in search of a new world. I will confine myself in the most secluded area with my utter loneliness. Among the leaves bathed in bliss I wake up with grass sprouting from my body and think they are ominous signs of my lot. Frightened I find a way out but all exists are blocked and threatening beasts are let loose, showing their teeth. Only the wind is free so I ask it for help. But I slump into reality again, sweating profusely. Wounded, the winged space falls down to ask for a healing hand. No one is at hand so I must give care. I watch my own feeble breathing, lost in the illusion of receiving gifts from friends. O my love, my sacred angel! I am like a smouldering fire following its bright burning. Talke away the last heat with your sweet hand, just as a rain covers the shot sun.
WHEN NIGHT FADES
1
Banks of clouds hasten to hide the blue sky like huge pieces of black wood. Evening I wake up. In the flickering light I glide as a germ like incurable sorrow. The sun train
temporarily ceases to spit out its sparkles of anger. I see myself as a merchant who needs to metamorphose due to the unrelentless watch of days and nights.
2
I carry within myself the seeds of my own disintegration. The evening train fails to alleviate my chagrin. I want to penetrate the depths of my weary soul. Drop after drop of water falls monotonously on the deserted step like the ticks of the clock of Hell, eternal reminder of my danned lot. I sit in silence watching sorrow grow. then paddle myself out of darkness with my two ear like hands. I raised my hand in exasperation. It hits the surrounding fence and my heart is sinking.
3
My heart is an empty vase. I roam over many places tp pluck flowers tp put in it. They wither.
4
I live as a stranger no one can meet. People see me without the faintest recognition. I reamin a shape of darkness which propels itself forward indefinetely. I arm myself with the rhythmic breath of the microbes swimming in my brain. I take the traces left by my soul as vestiges of defeat. Destiny rages in silence and lies heavy on thge shoulder of the victim which I am. I pretend to be an unconcerned fellow, ignoring the hammer blows of the judge.
5
Fearing the rising sun will prise out my secrets I tuen into a nightjar. Over a sleepy scene I slid out as a shadow to have a few more minutes of rapture. With acute pain I realise it will not be long before I must return to my abode. and the wicked light begins toying with each tree on my way back. Shaken badly, I know I have to expose more of myself with each passing day.
DELIVRANCE
I have behind all I have on me before I depart. Because life is a limitless race course without a better God as the only spectator who enjoys the shabby scene of horses struggling with each other to get out. We set out for an indefinite race until the end of the time, on a road infested with holes, barbed wire rolls, misery laden trees and leaves and flowers are but a myriad of symbols of sorrow. The pebbles and stones are balls of fire to burn the feet of runners. I have run so I have blisters on my feet.
With each passing day I know I am only a creature thrown in this monstrous world. One morning I frighteningly set out to fetch the comrades. But I meet no one so I become an almighty god. Accordingly I decide on my endless journey lest I stop to see the world as a forest full of mysterious fruits I must refuse.
mai trung tĩnh
(to be continued)
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