Categories
POETRY/THƠ

Nguyễn Thị Phương Trâm | a bleeding moon (154)

to hell with the reasons and meaningful swoon
I am nothing but nerves and heat
cut me off neat

By Nguyễn Thị Phương Trâm

 

Where do I go
to escape a bleeding moon?
 
my head spinning, the ire
to sin, burn in a fire
 
to hell with the reasons and meaningful swoon
I am nothing but nerves and heat
cut me off neat
 
beat me into a smithering of dying light
I will not fight
 
stillness is my might.
 
 

By Nguyễn Thị Phương Trâm

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

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