dai nam van hien books,
saigon 1971+ ho chi minh city 2012
1. upon the death of writer nhất linh *
by the phong
TRANSLATED BY DAM XUAN CAN
When I was twenty, it was not long ago
Picking a red,
red rose
I was praising you as a great writer of us all
Standing by myself amidst the soft,
cool air of a Hanoi autumn
I left my soul fellow the footsteps of our heroes
O how I wished then
to be like DŨNG in Two Friends
When I was twenty
I lived in the fashion of your heroes
Time passed ... and yes.
quickly than any of us could imagine
Your image no longer brightened our souls
Then came one afternoon
Dressed in smart clothes
I took a seat and ordered
a morning cup of coffee
Angry with myself turned a bourgeois
who knew how to spend money
I looked for a daily
stared dismally into space and indulged in day-dreams
Hearing the sweet sounds of music by those
who crossed the Pacific Ocean years ago
What do Asians think of
surrounded by waste land?
Suddenly something struck at my head cool as a needle
Writer Nhất Linh committed suicide
"swallowing poison on the 7th day of the 7th month
this year".
Reading his biography on newspapers and periodicals
I had to frown as distortions,
yes,
cruel distortions
Aimed at him and Asian literature as well
(Sure
criminal minded persons
could not understand a damn thing about us)
I must put down the cup of coffee
on table
thinking of you
who had left this world
forever and forever
I decide
this volume of poetry,
should contain only UPLIFTING POEMS
and sacred numbers -- let us remember well:
"the 7th day of the 7th month in 1963
the 49th day after his death".
He who lies in the grave
has the power on the destiny of the living.
SAIGON, AUG. 15, 1963
Nhất Linh [i.e. nguyễn tường tam 1906- 7-7-1963]
and his wife + his children -- (photo: internet)
* Nhất Linh (real name Nguyễn Tường Tam: 1906-- Saigon 7-7-1963)
was a great writer. Apart from his lasting literary fame, the real sign
of greatness lies in gis suicide in protest against dictator Ngô đình
Diệm's dictator. (Translators' note).
2. to be a girl
Where there are flies there's God
Where's God lonely men have a friend
I've walked all trails in my country
When I stopped the city of Dalat
was shrouded in mist in the dead of night
fortunately I had a companion to keep off the ghosts
Your face is haunting me,
in day and night
Lying in bed,
I keep thinking of you
I simply cannot help it
Your lips are so delicate,
your eyes just don't go away
On the threshold of adulthood
I' m still looking for a sister soul
I have climbed to the top of Lang biang Hill
When all I wanted was to bury my head in your
floating hair
Is there any love story
which is not beautiful
is there a blemish pervasive enough
to blot out deep humiliation inside?
I think continuously
of you and me and all.
To be a girl
to be a bar hostess
Is to be stripped of the liberty to live straight
And forced to put on airs
for the sake of money
Remembering the sweet moment
worth the money I saved in one year
You held me in your arms
Your warmth was better to me
Than the heat from the fireplace
I was yours,
all yours,
even it for a brief moment only
We were together twelve long hours
(Tomorrow I will live a world of memories).
SAIGON, OCT. 23, 1963
THEPHONG
(p. 70-74 Uplifting Poems)
(Tomorrow I will live a world of memories).
SAIGON, OCT. 23, 1963
THEPHONG
(p. 70-74 Uplifting Poems)
Không có nhận xét nào:
Đăng nhận xét