HIGHWAY | Lê Minh Chánh

Sydney Harbour Bridge. Photography by Nguyễn Thị Phương Trâm

A poem in Vietnamese by Lê Minh Chánh
Translator: Nguyễn Thị Phương Trâm

red. cutting. a severed line
half a dangling foot.
tick tock.
a heart constant, out of sync.
searching. the left pocket. a mangled cigarette
no light
annoyingly shoved back
tick tock
not a single relaxing minute
inhaling the delusional smoke
dragging out a pretend cloud
reflected upon glass panes
gale waning lip colours

in valse, the vehicles in rhythm
a new specie yet named
extinct
weaving chaotic
glaring at each other growling
not a hint of forest

endlessly shifting.
an exchange of places
the sunlight flickering on-off
each time the parklands changing
each time the highrise colours changing
each time the people rushing
each time the delaying
each breath dying
hidden in faces
who knows who

back and forth
a drawn-out meeting
a cloud covered space
mind-boggling yellow flowers
spine tinkling goosebumps
a drawn-out place of warmth
salvaging a kind of laughter
down a descending corridor
drawing in sounder

late
the day crumbling
frothy water lens drifting
the river of tar no longer recycling
an unconsolidated sadness
an unconsolidated loneliness
drooping shoulders off-kilter
upon the man’s cloak the dust clingy

drifting to where
the sleepless eyes
warping shadows of divinity
developments decimating blooming vines
memories discarded
in a garbage bag
sad saintly monuments in the teary eyes of the people
crying for whom?

why the pain of remembrance
since from inception
bloomed the day of judgment

one two three
the continuing call of youth
staying or going
the people in each horde dragging their shadow

across the road

ĐẠI LỘ

lộ mạn mạn kỳ tu viễn hề
(Khuất Nguyên)

đỏ. giao cắt. chặn đứt một dòng
nửa bàn chân lơ ngơ thả xuống.
và đếm.
tim luôn sai nhịp.
và lục tìm. túi áo bên trái. một điếu thuốc quăn queo
quên lửa
giận dữ cất
và đếm
không đủ một phút để thảnh thơi
rít thuốc tưởng tượng
tô vẽ một màu mây tưởng tượng
soi lên những ô kính
gió quệt phai son

xe nhảy valse từng đợt
như bầy thú sáng thế chưa kịp đặt tên
đã khuất
đan cài hỗn độn
và thi nhau gào rống
ôi tìm không thấy một bóng rừng

dịch chuyển bất tận.
đổi chỗ
nắng bật tắt
cây công viên đổi áo từng đợt
cao ốc đổi sắc từng đợt
người vội vàng từng đợt
chậm trễ từng đợt
thở từng hơi thở chết
giấu mặt
ai biết ai

ngược xuôi
vẽ ra một chỗ hẹn
chỗ mây che
hoa vàng loạn não
da thịt nổi gai
vẽ ra một nơi tìm được hơi ấm
vớt một điệu cười
nơi có hành lang dẫn xuống
hút sâu

đã muộn
ngày tháng rục
bèo bọt sông trôi
dòng nhựa không còn tái chế
buồn không kiểm soát
cô đơn không kiểm soát
so lệch vai
bụi đầy bâu áo

trôi về đâu
những mắt nhìn mất ngủ
bóng gãy thần tích
công trường tan nát những cành hoa
kỉ niệm bỏ quên
là túi rác
thánh tượng sầu bi trong mắt người ràn rụa
khóc vì ai?

đừng nhớ mà đau
khi tự khởi đầu
đã nở thành mạt thế

một hai ba
hình nhân xanh vẫy gọi
chưa biết về hay đi
người đòi đoạn kéo lê chiếc bóng

qua đường
…
7.20

Lê Minh Chánh (1)#songngutaitram

Lộ mạn mạn kỳ tu viễn hề
Ngô tương thượng hạ nhi cầu tác
Li tao- Khuất Nguyên
(Con đường này còn dài đăng đẳng
Ta còn ngược xuôi thỉnh cầu tìm kiếm)

Lê Minh Chánh, 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.

I cried | Quách Thoại

Ground Zero, NYC, USA. Photography by Nguyễn Thị Phương Trâm

A poem in Vietnamese by Quách Thoại
Translation by Nguyễn Thị Phương Trâm

Hey! a century of people is within me
Tucked away in a grave by a hill
Where heaven showed up on a throne
So I cried and I cried and I couldn’t stop CRYING.

Tôi khóc

Ôi! con người thế kỷ ở trong tôi
Đã cất xong ngôi mộ cạnh hòn đồi
Mà thiên đàng hiển hiện ngự trên ngôi
Cho nên tôi khóc, tôi khóc hoài không thôi.

—-
Nguồn: Phạm Thanh, Thi nhân Việt Nam hiện đại (quyển hạ), NXB Xuân Thu tái bản, 1990

Quách Thoại (1930-1957) Born Đoàn Thoại in Hue, Vietnam. He loved Tagore from an early age, at 18 he left for Saigon as a freelancer for newspapers like Đoàn kết, Làm dân. Within two years became the General Secretary for Nguồn sống.

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.

CUỐI NGÀY, NHÌN RA, TỪ MỘT NGÔI ĐỀN BÊN BỜ SÔNG | Jia Dao

賈島 Jia Dao (779–843)

Nước
phủ kín chân trời dưới những đám mây;
sương mù trên núi
làm mờ ngôi làng phía xa.

Khi trở về tổ, những chú chim
để lại dấu vết trên cát;
đi trên sông, một chiếc thuyền
không để lại dấu vết trên sóng.

Tôi ngắm nhìn dòng nước
và cảm nhận sự dịu nhẹ của nó;
ngắm nhìn những ngọn núi
cho đến khi tinh thần mệt mỏi.

Mặc dù vẫn chưa muốn
dừng suy ngẫm,
hoàng hôn đã buông xuống
tôi phải cưỡi ngựa trở về.

LATE IN THE DAY, GAZING OUT
FROM A RIVER PAVILION

Chia Tao (779–843)Translations by Mike O’ConnorIn: The Clouds Should Know Me By Now: Buddhist Poet Monks of ChinaWisdom Publications, 1998, pp. 11-42.

Water to the horizon
veils the base of clouds;
mountain mist
blurs the far village.

Returning to nest, birds
make tracks in the sand;
passing on the river, a boat
leaves no trace on the waves.

I gaze at the water
and know its gentle nature;
watch the mountains
until my spirit tires.

Though not yet ready
to leave off musing,
dusk falls,
and I return by horse.

Jia Dao [779-843] CHIA TAO WAS A BUDDHIST POET of the Middle T’ang dynasty. Born into an impoverished family near today’s Beijing, he became a Ch’an (Zen) monk early in his youth, with the religious name Wupen. While scant biographical detail of his monastic days exists, his official biography does note that upon arriving at the Eastern Capital, Lo-yang, Chia Tao wrote a poem protesting a curfew forbidding monks to go out after noon. The poem caught the sympathetic eye of the eminent Confucian poet Han Yu (768–824) and led to the latter becoming Chia Tao’s poetry mentor.

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.

Poetry is like fucking | Nguyễn Thị Phương Trâm [328]

thơ Nguyễn Vũ Hiệp

[Tặng Nguyễn Vũ Hiệp]

Poetry is like fucking
The obscenity
Physically demanding

It demand little thought
Because, like that cliché
Love needs
No – explanation

Poetry is not confined by barrier or race
It’s a chase

Ahumm
To the death I say
Mate to death do us part

It is an art
Defining feelings

But I’ll forefathers
And mothers
They had to live with so little
They had no fucken time for art

Love you say?
There was not enough to eat
So they had to be neat

Their love was structured and confined
An obscene sprinkling of morality
An assortment of religious audacity
Lục bát haiku
Arrange marriages, they do

Fuck a virgin
Have a baby
Then we’ll see

The world is a village baby
We are yet to live in space
Where the air is scarce

Here on earth
Your voice shall echo through the air
Through the abyss of human pain and suffering

Don’t be scared
You, yes you I dare

Because when you are not young or old
You are just angry

Take it from me
Take this world from me
It is now your stage
Not mine.

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.

the trauma of three generations | Nguyễn Thị Phương Trâm

Mum, Anh and Thảo. Photography by Nguyễn Thị Phương Trâm

Published on Văn Nghệ Biển Khơi

the trauma of three generation

Christmas – NYE – Tết
dished out is the daily reminder

– you are NOT enough!

will my grandchildren be lost?
the fresh tears in their eyes

– what am I supposed to be?
will I have enough money for Tết?

the vicious circle of hell
– how will I feed my children?

brown rice sweet potatoes and cassava
on the supermarket shelf
superfoods and starving children

sự chấn thương của ba thế hệ

Giáng sinh – tết tây – tết ta
lập đi lập lại hàng ngày

– bạn KHÔNG xứng đáng!

liệu cháu của chúng tôi
chúng có kiếm nổi con đường mà đi?
những giọt nước mắt cứ mới mãi

– tôi phải làm gì, tôi phải là ai?
liệu tôi có đủ tiền cho Tết không?

luẩn quẩn luẩn quẩn mãi vòng địa ngục
– con tôi ăn gì?

gạo lứt khoai lang hay khoai mì
trên kệ siêu thị
nhứng món siêu thực phẩm và những đứa trẻ chết đói

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.

AGAINST NATURE | Thanh Dang

A poem in Vietnamese by Thanh Dang
Translator: Nguyễn Thị Phương Trâm

to simply exist when
the river of life is perilous
the worries that plague us
the struggle of finding our way
and change is not so easy they say
giving one’s heart away for nothing
be it the fate of grass with no choice
grudgingly give up one’s dream
no matter how generous is one’s heart
indisputable is one’s fate
souls in this big wide world must all
reluctantly accept the cycle of life
the will of heaven
very reluctantly… chance, fate
seemingly natural interventions of
unpredictable private matters
decoding without the codes
one can’t simply come and go as one please
time and again one must know one true self
no different to finding the right path
finding one’s nature true

KHÓ LÒNG AN NHIÊN

Muốn tự tại làm sao tự tại
Dòng sông đời chảy mãi quanh co
Với người năm tháng âu lo
Với người năm tháng lần mò bước đi
Muốn đột biến dễ gì đột biến
Đem tâm tình dâng hiến, như không
Huống chi thân phận cỏ bồng
Đành thu giấc mộng cam lòng, biết sao
Trái tim có phun trào cũng phải
Biết phận mình canh cãi khó thay
Những hồn bốn biển xưa nay
Đành đi theo với vần xoay cuộc đời
Dẫu biết để cơ trời chi phối
Rất không đành… vận hội, cơ duyên
Hình như là có tự nhiên
Xen vào câu chuyện rất riêng khó lường
Muốn giải mã khôn đường giải mã
Muốn vào ra khó thể vào ra
Thôi thời ta biết riêng ta
Cũng là đạt đạo đã là an nhiên

Thanh Dang, the poet from Vietnam currently resides in Houston, Texas, U. S. A.

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.

THE STALL ON A RAINY NIGHT | Nguyễn Cường

Nguyễn Cường và Trâm. April 2016

A poem in Vietnamese by Nguyễn Cường
Translation by Nguyễn Thị Phương Trâm

Rain soaking the sky
Rain soaking the night
Soaking all the city’s eaves
Soaking the hunched traveler
the stall on the pavement..

Wash clean the muck of day
Even the small opportune too flushed away
Till morrow’s dawn street lamps glares
What dreams are lit for the long night…

The last customer here there about
The quiet stall waited for an encounter
For the stranger
To flick a match
To light the pipe
To form the words of warmth amidst the night …

QUÁN GIÓ ĐÊM MƯA

Mưa ướt trời
mưa ướt đêm
ướt những mái che hè phố
ướt kẻ co ro
quán gió bên đường …

Gột rửa những bụi bặm ban ngày
trôi cả chút cơ may bé nhỏ
ngọn đèn đường chiếu sáng tận sớm mai
giấc mơ nào thắp trong đêm dài …

Người khách cuối cùng còn lang thang đâu đó
quán vắng chờ một cuộc vãng lai
dù ai xa lạ
bật một que diêm
châm một điếu thuốc
cũng thành lời sưởi ấm giữa đêm mưa …

Nguyễn Cường is a poet from Hải Phòng, Vietnam. The poet is currently retired in Sydney, Australia.

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.

MUM | Bùi Kim-Anh

Bùi Kim-Anh and her mum

A poem in Vietnamese by Bùi Kim-Anh
Translation by Nguyễn Thị Phương Trâm

anxiousness
brimming in a dream
noon aberration
a small lonely pot of chrysanthemum

mum, are you…
next door
in back alley
glimmer of light on the back wall
sound of a child somewhere
a mother singing a lullaby

mum…
tapping away on a blank page
the slight chill
of my mother’s spirit

MẸ ƠI…

thảng thốt
bật dậy cơn mơ
giấc trưa
lọ hoa cúc nhỏ không hương
lặng lẽ

mẹ ơi…
bên nhà hàng xóm
ngõ sau
bức tường chắn hắt vệt nắng yếu
ngặt nghẽ tiếng trẻ
ầu ơ tiếng mẹ

mẹ ơi…
gõ vào trang trắng lạnh
phảng hơi lạnh
mẹ của ta ở cõi cô hồn

Bùi Kim Anh, the poet born in 1948 in Thái Bình, graduated from Hanoi Teacher College, a teacher at a few high schools in Hanoi(Cổ Loa, Bạch Mai, Trần Phú). She is a member of the Vietnam Writers Association. Bùi Kim Anh together with her journalist husband Trần Mai Hạnh currently lives in Nguyễn Đình Chiểu, Hanoi with their eldest daughter and grandchildren, including Thiện Nhân, from Mount Thành, Quảng Nam, abandoned by his mother and adopted by Trần Mai Anh, the poet’s daughter.

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.

ĐẠI LỘ

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Tôi khóc

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KHÓ LÒNG AN NHIÊN

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QUÁN GIÓ ĐÊM MƯA

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MẸ ƠI…

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