life as ranging rope by the phong ( uplifting poems / the phong -- dai nam van hien books, saigon 1974)

 life as ranging rope/
 uplifting poems by the phong/  -2-
 dai nam van hien books, saigon 1974

                                  life as ranging rope
                                                       by the phong


           1

            Eighteen years of age
                                ample breasts,
            nice make up
                                  wearing jeans,
            looking at the rain outside
            Night was torn apart by the sad
            voice singing
            Midnight.
            Open the door,
                                looking at the rain now falling thicker
            Sure as hell
                                she could kill men with her charming smile
            Bur the seldom smiled to those round her


             Her step-father was not Daddy
                               and was rather badly treated at that
             Her mother brought sorrow to her first children
                                by marrying a second husband
             Her own son
                                a kid as strong  an athlete
             and as manly as an American movie actor
             He screamed
             " You pay for your crime I tell you"
             Night after life you sleep with my mother
             When I am a man I will strike you for sure
             I'll put a stop to your dishonoring my family's name
             No, no
             You should not put on airs, telling us do to this or that.
             My sister no longer a teenager
                               she can sing if she likes to
              And she can sleep with anyone she damn pleases
             See me, face me, silly old man
             You are fifty and you practice gym
              you like good food, good drink, good clothes
             You like fun.
              Do you still love life that much?
              You're no moralist,
                                 o silly old man
             You hate me
                                  brand me as a hoodlum
                                  because I'm no son of yours.


             " Midnight ...
                                  I awoke and heard the firful cries of anguish".



              2

             The morning was misty
                                 the lamp was still burning
              A girl's sigh saddened the heart of any sensible boy
              Have a look at her in the mirror:
                                  she was ravishing
                                  there is no doubt about that
              He lips rouged
                                  but not to see her brother off foe soldiering
              Mind you
                                  it was not bullets that he would fire
                                  but it was anger
              mother could not help her tears
              Sister looked at him as if he was lover


              " I woke up in the middle of the night, hearing sobs ..."



              3

              The daughter told everybody the made clothes
              She was off very early morning
                                  and was not back until late night
               What the hell did she really do,
                                   nobody had any clue
               But who really cared!
                                    Who really cared!


              Thanks to her,
                                    her little sisters had candies to eat
              Thanks to her,
                                     they had nice clothes to wear
               and they had nice words to say about her,
                                     they were very fond of her
               We the neighbors believed what we were told;
                                     We were not fussy people
               "At night we heard merry singing and sobbing as well"


                4

                One morning
                                      she was escorted home by two cops
                                      with he handcuffs on her wrists
                 How pitiful she looked!
                                       She could only weep to plead for mercy
                 There was conclusive evidence
                 she was caught sleeping naked with a foreigner in a hotel
                 Ah,
                                          what a shabby  singer she was
                 By no stretch of the imagination could she be taken as a tailor
                 As for me
                 I believed her self- defense supremely convincing
                 I judged her and found her innocent
                 I passed the verdict as a poet
                 I got not money at all
                                          so it was not a professional occupation
                 I was concerned to see deeply into human motivation
                 The fake singe's mother cried loudest of all.
                 "That night
                                            it was surprising quiet
                                                       no singing, no sobbing 
                                                             nothing ..."


                  5

                   I could not hear the funeral march beating
                   As coffins passed through the road in front of my house
                   Day after day without relatives following the coffin
                   Who had died?
                                                 How dis he live?
                                                 Could a life be so short and sad

                   Well,
                            I knew those who had paid the price of patriotism
                            seeing the flag-wrapped coffins
                   Alas,
                            it broke my heart that those wives forgot you
                                                   not long after that
                   I knew they wanted to get married again
                             leaving your children uncared for
                   I knew why these unfaithful women hated dogs like hell
                   Night and day were indistinguishable,
                   the singer's voice and weeping already died down ...
                   Then one sad evening I raised my voice to sing for myself
                    Evoking the sad image of two love beings,
                               her and myself, on the hill of pines
                    The little girl from the house next door
                                started eating candies bought with cash
                    Seeing her wearing a morning band I asked her about it
                    Sadly she told me his brother had been killed in a battle
                     when I asked about her sister
                                she shook his head
                      " No, no I have no sister
                                 my sister was not a whore"


                    I apologized as she broke in tears
                    Night and day are alike
                                 life is but a hanging rope
                    They are still living
                                 still living ...
                                 

                     there is not much sound and fury ...

                     THEPHONG
                      Saigon, July 16, 1963