A poem in Vietnamese by Vũ Trọng Quang
Translator: Nguyễn Thị Phương Trâm

HOME
.
A child in one arm, an instrument in the other
no hands left to wave down the nostalgic burning forest
I am me at the foot of the bridge
my breath the stench of fish
bathing in the dark waters of the river
I grew up by the call of the paperboy
I grew up by the clanking tin of shoe polish
on the other side of the river you grew into a woman
my love delivered to you in silence.
.
My father lost his life in the forest
my mother knitting splitting the tips of her fingers
the tears fell in the two syllables of hero
I continued to walk the against the length of the Annamite range
undoing the safety catch, shooting the flare
the fierce battle over
yet peace was attained by none
you and I decided upon a new contrariety
.
My mother no longer knits
her fingers bleeds still
her fingers pressing on the strings of the instrument
the notes fell in the two syllables of hero.
.
My children drew me
in undefined features.
.
(Christmas 2019)
______
NGÔI NHÀ
.
Một tay ôm con một tay ôm đàn
không còn tay nào mẹ vẫy chào khu rừng lãng mạn khói lửa
tôi bắt đầu tôi dưới chân cầu
thở mùi tanh của cá
tắm dòng sông nước đen
từ tiếng rao bán báo tôi lớn lên
từ tiếng gõ vào thùng đánh giầy tôi lớn lên
em dậy thì bên kia sông
tôi tỏ tình bằng im lặng.
.
Cha tôi bỏ xác trên rừng
mẹ ngồi đan áo mũi kim đâm vào đầu ngón tay
nước mắt rơi xuống hai chữ anh hùng
tôi tiếp tục đi ngược chiều Trường Sơn
mở khóa an toàn bắn chỉ thiên
cuộc chiến khốc liệt đã kết thúc
mỗi chúng ta chưa có hoà bình
tôi và em bày ra một xung đột khác
.
Mẹ không còn ngồi đan áo
ngón tay còn nhỏ máu
ngón tay bấm vào dây đàn
nốt nhạc rơi xuống hai chữ anh hùng.
.
Con tôi vẽ chân dung tôi
không rõ nét.
Vũ Trọng Quang, the poet currently lives in Saigon, Vietnam.
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.
Nguyen, I love this so much. Wow. At times, I love to read poetry with some music playing in the background. I just had my playlist on shuffle, but as soon as I started reading this piece, this song started playing from my playlist:
It was such a moving experience to hear the acoustics of this song, and singer’s voice, and the pace of the song, while I read this piece. Thank you for sharing. I’d recommend rereading it again while having that song play in the background. You may like the experience. Wow, I love this poem and the story it tells, how it tells it.
Much love, bestie ✨
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It is a moving poem.. but I want you to go and find a bestie your age.. Especially since I am old and could drop dead any given moment yeah.
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I already have a bestie my age! Haha I want a bestie your age, and that’s you! I have besties with all sorts of ages—some are older than you haha. And don’t worry, I can drop dead at any given moment too! 🙂 We can be friends for whatever amount of time we have left in this state of being, bestie 💕
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