A poem by E. E. Cummings
Translator: Lê Vĩnh Tài
có ai đó đang sống ở một thị trấn xinh đẹp nào đó không
(với rất nhiều tiếng chuông rơi xuống)
xuân hạ thu đông
anh hát bài hát không phải của mình, anh nhảy múa vui như thế…
phụ nữ và đàn ông (cả sồn sồn và bé nhỏ)
còn có ai quan tâm đến anh không
họ gieo hạt giống không phải của họ và họ gặt hái những điều đó
nắng mặt trời trăng sao trong mưa
những đứa trẻ cứ đoán (dĩ nhiên chỉ vài đứa
rồi chúng sẽ quên khi chúng lớn lên
mùa thu, mùa đông, mùa xuân, mùa hạ)
rằng một nàng nào đó đã yêu anh nhiều hơn bọn họ
khi nào vì bây giờ, cái cây vì chiếc lá
nàng cười với niềm vui của anh, nàng khóc lúc anh buồn
chim buồn vì tuyết trắng và lặng im vui chỉ vì vài ba tiếng động
những gì của anh là tất cả với nàng
như ai đó kết hôn với tất cả mọi người
họ cười bằng tiếng khóc làm họ vui nhảy múa
(giấc ngủ đánh thức hy vọng và sau đó) họ
sẽ kể họ không bao giờ ngủ cả giấc mơ
ngôi sao cơn mưa mặt trời nắng mặt trăng
(chỉ có tuyết mới bắt đầu giải thích
làm thế nào để những đứa trẻ học quên để nhớ
khi rất nhiều tiếng chuông rơi)
một ngày nào đó khi anh chết, tôi đoán
(không có ai đến từ biệt và hôn)
người ta bận rộn lo chôn cất họ
bên nhau, vì họ cũng chỉ mong như thế
tất cả vì tất cả và mọi người cứ ngỡ chỉ có mình mới sâu xa
nhiều hơn còn có nhiều hơn, họ mơ giấc ngủ mơ
nàng và anh thầm mong như họ, tháng tư
về với đất âm thầm như thể
phụ nữ và đàn ông (cả những người ngẩn ngơ nữa nhé)
mùa hạ mùa thu mùa đông mùa xuân
gặt hái cái họ gieo họ đi và họ đến
nắng mặt trời ngôi sao vẫn trong mưa…
anyone lived in a pretty how town
(with up so floating many bells down)
spring summer autumn winter
he sang his didn’t he danced his did.
Women and men(both little and small)
cared for anyone not at all
they sowed their isn’t they reaped their same
sun moon stars rain
children guessed(but only a few
and down they forgot as up they grew
autumn winter spring summer)
that noone loved him more by more
when by now and tree by leaf
she laughed his joy she cried his grief
bird by snow and stir by still
anyone’s any was all to her
someones married their everyones
laughed their cryings and did their dance
(sleep wake hope and then)they
said their nevers they slept their dream
stars rain sun moon
(and only the snow can begin to explain
how children are apt to forget to remember
with up so floating many bells down)
one day anyone died i guess
(and noone stooped to kiss his face)
busy folk buried them side by side
little by little and was by was
all by all and deep by deep
and more by more they dream their sleep
noone and anyone earth by april
wish by spirit and if by yes.
Women and men(both dong and ding)
summer autumn winter spring
reaped their sowing and went their came
sun moon stars rain
E.E Cummings (1894-1962]
Edward Estlin Cummings (October 14, 1894 – September 3, 1962), was an American poet, painter, essayist, author, and playwright.
Lê Vĩnh Tài, the poet and translator born in 1966 in Buon Ma Thuot, Daklak, Vietnam. The retired doctor is still a resident of the Western Highlands and a businessman in Buon Ma Thuot.
Nguyễn Thị Phương Trâm 
I’ve always loved E.E. Cummings’ poetry. ❤️
You’ve probably noticed that I haven’t visited your blog as much as I used to, Tram.
I haven’t been visiting as many other people’s blogs as much as I used to.
The reason being that my landlady has spent most of the year doing renovations around the townhouse.
And I have to keep fleeing the house to escape all the noise and hammering 🔨.
I’m not able to get as much work done doing research for my blog as I used to as a result and then it takes a while for me to actually write my blog.
As you’ve noticed, most of my blog posts these days don’t fall much below 1300 words.
It seems when I do start writing, I’ve got an awful lot to say.
So that leaves me very little time to visit other people’s blogs, to read them and then to comment.
A friend of mine dropped by to see me today and my landlady was talking to him for awhile and then she announced another renovation to the townhouse – a new renovation which was the first I heard about and my first thought was, “Oh God, no, not another renovation.”
I’m hoping that will be the last renovation she’ll do to the house for another few years.
So I haven’t forgotten about you and your blog, Tram, or the wonderful poems you translate and sometimes write yourself but I find I have very little time during the day to visit other people’s blogs as a result of all the renovations and hammering 🔨 and banging go on around the house that I have to escape.
Once all these renovations are done, I hope I will then have time to visit other people’s blogs.
So I haven’t forgotten about you, Tram.
God bless you and have a wonderful week.
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You funny guy, oh, you make sound like I’m one of your concubines yeah, jokes, life is too short Christopher. You do what you have to do. We do so we can breathe. This “guilt” you seem to have, let it go, like that Disney song. Can you hear it? Now it will play in your head until you see that the question that we ponder all our life is “to be or not to be” like Bill said. The essence of you linger even in your silence, if that it is its destiny to linger so to speak. Live. The blog is just an aspect of your world. Yeah, I have a gift when it comes to bullshitting. You too, bless you my friend. :))
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ROTFL ! @ concubines!
I guess these days that will be the only way anyone will ever compare me to Solomon.
Talk of concubines.
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heheh
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