Vì mình nhỡ chuyến tầu về xuôi
Nên người yêu đã đi xa rồi
Vọng về đây ngẩn ngơ tiếng còi chìm dần nơi xa
Chậm một giây, tầu rời bến
Đứng nhìn theo bánh lăn vô tình
Còn gì đâu hỡi ơi bóng hình người em thân yêu
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Author: Nguyễn Thị Phương Trâm
There's magic in translating a body of work from one language to another.
I can’t seem to control myself when it comes to the vernacular of a newly discovered poet. My curiosity gets the better of me.
Amongst his manly words, the work of an interesting American-Vietnamese poet.
Introducing my first translation of Nguyễn Hàn Chung, the epitome of the poet’s inner pondering and ego.
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Vivienne Westwood
“Mỗi khi tôi phải tra từ điển cho từ gì đó, là mỗi khi tôi được vui ơi là vui.” translation into Vietnamese by Nguyễn Thị Phương Trâm
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Zbigniew Hertbert | CƠN MƯA – THE RAIN
khi anh trai tôi
trở về từ chiến tranh
trên trán của anh có một ngôi sao bằng bạc
và dưới ngôi sao
là vực thẳm
Ôi tôi thơ thẩn luôn với câu hỏi: họ là những người điên hay là tôi?
(Dược sĩ sĩ dịch)
A question that drives me hazy: am I or are the others crazy?
Albert Einstein.
It has be an active year of blogging on my part, thank you for being there for me. I will be on hiatus for the month of June.
May peace and joy dwell in your home.
Take Care.
Nguyễn Thị Phương Trâm
remember when I typed your name
on the screen
the print disappeared from one page to the next
we have upon the lips of strangers kissed
left the scent of us
at the tip of my tongue, your name
where children are turned into flaming torches
where bees are turned into weapons
where wild birds are turned into warriors
the droopy brows of the poem, its eyes
the flare of a sword’s blade
the undefined teeth marks
as it bites
the paper
please don’t worry about complimenting this poem
the tragedy of a good heart
the cause of our confusion
From a mother’s missed calculation
To a father’s recklessness
You were born
Through the cracks of betrayal and resentment you grew up
By Nguyễn Thị Phương Trâm I’m as ordinary as the next person, the biggest difference is that I was born with the ability to bear children. A significant difference in the eyes of the world. All I want for my children is equality in your vernacular. A woman, a wife, a lover, do they need […]
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Đinh Trường Chinh | memorial weekend
By Đinh Trường Chinh “…bằng cây trút lá nghĩa trang đìu hiu..” (PD) minh hoạ ngày mưa. (memorial weekend).đtc
Tôi biết bạn không hiểu, nhưng cũng không sao, ở bạn tôi luôn lưu lại những hy vọng và niềm tin.
—
I know you don’t understand, and that is okay, because within you is my faith and hope.
eyes closing the cause of his tears
wrapped in the arms of the cold night
he begs you for a dare
we’ve been too soft
why can’t we be tougher
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Bùi Kim-Anh | MAY SUNDAY 2021 (9)
I’m old so be told
time has turned its back on me
but by me always is poetry
the word mud
is it in rhythm with all those mad people around you
the word shun
you grabbed and kissed
the spellbinding fingers of whom for the first time picked up a pen
after thousands of years of trying to learn how to speak
the letters like a hunting trap
loose around the bait
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Emily Dickinson | “Hope” (1)
“Hy vọng” như những gì có lông –
Trên linh hồn đậu –
Và hát những bài hát không lời –
Mà không – bao giờ ngưng –
the songs in patches of the forest
and a peeling wall
the shedding rows of trees
within the glory of the sunset
and a verse
stuck endlessly inside a chest cavity
silent at the base of a heart
settled in the eyeball
abiding in the abyss of dreams
to be
forever in
disintegration
