A poem in Vietnamese by Phan Nhiên Hạo
Translator: Nguyễn Thị Phương Trâm
Art: Đinh Trường Chinh

The guitar player tightened the strings
periodically in exile,
in Cửu Long alluvial
and American Midwest meadows.
Where he lives the sky is full of clouds, cattle to the slaughter.
–
He glorifies love, the scent of a path far away from the equatorial rain.
Verbally he longed for his home, snow storms,
empty parking lots.
His past is like a singer in a folk dance troupe
a blind act. His present is like a hot air balloon,
flying, waiting for the moment it will fall.
His future is a television box
in a nursing home, with no signal.
–
He has nothing but jazz,
in a world hard of hearing.
Hence, he’s overcome by the futility of it all
like when the power was cut and he was crammed in a room
on Nguyễn Tri Phương boulevard, naked,
fanning,
Saigon in the eighties.
—
May 2022
—–
Người chơi đàn lưu vong
–
Người chơi đàn này căng dây
giữa những múi giờ lưu vong,
giữa phù sa Cửu Long và cánh đồng Trung Tây
nước Mỹ.
Bầu trời nơi y ở nhiều mây, đàn bò sắp vào lò mổ.
–
Y ca ngợi tình yêu, mùi con đường sau cơn mưa
nhiệt đới. Y nói về tha hương, bão tuyết,
bãi đậu xe vắng người.
Quá khứ của y như người hát xẩm
giả mù. Hiện tại của y như khinh khí cầu,
bay, và đợi giờ rơi xuống.
Tương lai của y là một Tivi
trong nhà dưỡng lão, mất sóng.
–
Y không có gì ngoài jazz,
trong một thế giới nặng tai.
Điều này khiến y cảm thấy vô tích sự
như tối Chủ Nhật cúp điện nằm trong phòng chật
đường Nguyễn Tri Phương, trần truồng,
và quạt,
Sài Gòn những năm 80.
–
10.2011
Phan Nhiên Hạo, the poet and translator born 1967 in Kontum, Vietnam, currently works and lives in Illinois, the United States of America.
Nguyễn Thị Phương Trâm, the blogger, poet, and translator, was born in 1971 in Phu Nhuan, Saigon, Vietnam. The pharmacist currently lives and works in Western Sydney, Australia.
Thank you my friend for bringing this beautiful piece to us in English. I really enjoy this artist too. The poetry is a window into various lives and such unusual metaphors. Just truly beautiful writing. The nursing home piece really is said yet is often a reality in the US anyway. Trâm thank you, blessings and hugs, Joni
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Thank you Joni, it’s always a pleasure to hear from you.. ❤ Trâm.
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Wow, I love this ❤
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The sad musician stories always get me. The musical elements of the poem get me the most.
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It’s how the human race process their pain yeah, through music, the arts, literature. It is integral in our survival, it fortifies our grit and endurance. We’re going to be okay, we’ve got this, so what if we can’t speak their language, we look different, we are aliens anywhere we find ourselves, but music is a universal language that comes from our heart… something like that? :)))
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Something exactly like that. Art is a universal language that brings us all together 🙌🏾🙌🏾
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How old are you? 5? hi-5 kiddo :))
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5 on the inside for sure. I am a strong believer in the quote, “don’t grow up. It’s a trap!”
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:))
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