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ART POETRY/THƠ

Đinh Trường Chinh | Phạm Duy

An inspired piece of poetry By J. P. K. | Johandros Systems

With a guitar on his back, held by a bond made by nature.
In his arm or inner self, a piece of nature as well.
Although one which is already grayish.
Standing on a river or street between lands.
Looking beyond or back, at distant places.

Phạm Duy is a prolific Vietnamese song writer, composer and artist

1949 – 1999

Đinh Trường Chinh have drawn Phạm Duy in a mixed art form, he is rather secretive about the process. Hence, I’ve stopped enquiring.

His art by the day more incredibly unique. I take full pride in sharing them.

Nguyễn Thị Phương Trâm


An inspired piece of poetry By J. P. K. | Johandros Systems

With a guitar on his back, held by a bond made by nature.
In his arm or inner self, a piece of nature as well.
Although one which is already grayish.
Standing on a river or street between lands.
Looking beyond or back, at distant places.
While where he stands one side reflects another, but both different and yet similar.
Mud on his clothes, dusty stars, like on the hills of sand and rock.
Dying trees, on the street, the river standing.
Lonely trees on dying hills.
Holding the former beauty, the forest once standing, long ago, holding it inside, while it hurts the belly, the heart. Keeping it, seeing it, to make it visible.
All gray, dark and dying.
Then, a yellow shimmer on the round river it goes.
Drawn like a simple map, a sketch of a former island, a sand bank.
As if there once was a path or might be one, only visible to him, if he would look.
Maybe just sun rays shining from afar.
Like the milky way, stars in a big shining shape.
Just a tiny dark spot, in a bright sky.
But the sky is dark, is gray.
A dying tree, the man can see.
Between sadness and hope.

By Nguyễn Thị Phương Trâm

There's magic in translating a body of work from one language to another.

9 replies on “Đinh Trường Chinh | Phạm Duy”

With a guitar on his back, held by a bond made by nature.
In his arm or inner self, a piece of nature as well.
Although one which is already grayish.
Standing on a river or street between lands.
Looking beyond or back, at distant places.
While where he stands one side reflects another, but both different and yet similar.
Mud on his clothes, dusty stars, like on the hills of sand and rock.
Dying trees, on the street, the river standing.
Lonely trees on dying hills.
Holding the former beauty, the forest once standing, long ago, holding it inside, while it hurts the belly, the heart. Keeping it, seeing it, to make it visible.
All gray, dark and dying.
Then, a yellow shimmer on the round river it goes.
Drawn like a simple map, a sketch of a former island, a sand bank.
As if there once was a path or might be one, only visible to him, if he would look.
Maybe just sun rays shining from afar.
Like the milky way, stars in a big shining shape.
Just a tiny dark spot, in a bright sky.
But they sky is dark, is gray.
A dying tree, the man can see.
Between sadness and hope.

I just got to write this. 🙂
But I have no idea whether it has something to do with this painting nor the man portrait. ❤

Liked by 1 person

I would feel charmed to see it on your blog. But about the linking, only do so, if you take the responsibility for people finding my website filled with all kinds of madness. 😅🙃💜

Liked by 1 person

😀 Yes indeed a little mad isn’t all bad, as long as we don’t get completely lost in it or find a way out agai. And I sure was lost in it for a very long time. And for me you aren’t mad, at least can’t be more than I myself. ^^ ❤

Liked by 1 person

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