Category: EPIC POEM/TRƯỜNG CA

resonating deep echoes of a gong far gone
a gloomy day a baby turned in its mother’s womb 
who gets to choose the door entering the world
the land hot bloodied in human sweat 
recollections forgetful as clouds are as springs
child, are you sure it’s not too much…

the dreams of fire
a homeland drew up in white clouds
o homeland fresh and green
you leaning on me, you’re exhausted child
us leaning on a small frond
leaning into a song
what can a song do
a frond wet eyes
flying into the fresh green night…

the burden upon shoulders in our sandals slipping
o homeland thy slipping dignity
the universal dream
the rivers merging
the sea an ache
the vat of wine in the longhouse house bitter
facing the returning months and year
the forest exchanged for a broken vehicle
the gong at times a stage
in Thy eyes child play
the child yearns for its mother returns

but when you turn your back my child, the Sun also sets
to craving once more the dusk
you’re the light I’m the dark
darkness shattering human eyes
in throats upon lips
the lyrics…

Ea-Kao in the late rain
chilly yearning for the one in sunlight yearning for whom
preserving the identity of the longhouse in animations in videotapes
replacing the coal stove since the sea is gone
the master of our ceremony after your cries
me dreaming of being the sacrifice in your thanksgiving

of a child tight on mother’s breast
of father’s fists, holding onto the ladder
falling with sadness / slipping on dreams
from behind the open door
dazed in the brilliance of the East by the cooking fire
the Sun breaking out prancing on the hooves of horses
across an immersed expanse of white flowers flying
white blooms bedazzled by plumb pink fruit after the rain
in every breath of the sunrise
the rubber trees oozing sap
came a new decree
in a blink a golden autumn bloom of wild daisies
a homeland shattered into so much warm rain
warm rain wrapping Thee in a red marrow cloak
with nothing but embroidered white blooms
o golden sunlight upon nectars

giving birth to a man is a woman
giving birth to a woman is beauty
homeland o homeland
I adore Thee like laboured sleep after a day’s turmoil
in long nights in that most intoxicating moment
I dream of laying with you child
coveting you in a dream drowned in tears
and the Sun ever stuck in the dark
gently I shall remove
allowing the wind to caress the peak of our desire
the aching exhaustion
secrets
o homeland…

Who has swapped Kàte forest for a few blooming rice fields?
each seed is like mother’s fetus
brimming on father’s tears
the forest ceasing on exiled faces
drawn up by the wind the crumbling sadness
the sadness of ashes the sadness of fires
the sadness of migrants crowding even dreams

the forest went in a blink
gone where o forest
the forest turning into a ring
fallen where o forest
the forest turning into a still life
where is the green
forest
o

after the aching cowardice
after the months years passed by the polished black K’pan
the whole village shivering upon the gùi
the whole village, a child in a sling on a flat chest
sucking on its mother’s breast
doddering
bewildered on a feral slope

the budding red leaf soft in thy eyes
burning
shattering into warm rain overwhelming the horizon without a way
upon the water’s surface left, not a mark
the Cosmic mountains Sea lake a boat of light
like sunlight a blink in the night
caressing tenderly since
Thou art has given thanksgiving to many gods
adorned numerous charms

yet Thy journeys are likened to a saddle mouldering
As Thy lover underfoot abandon Thee

gosh in Thy blood are the clouds and the wind
a burden worrisome wind
slipping through the cracks of fingers like the seasons through memory
falling…
Thee reviving the new land with thy own sadness
the long sighs escaping from the caves

the forest in a gùi
the forest inside a dry gourd
the forest, her hair loose across her face
her shedding tears facing the pick-axe and fire
the day father lowered the trees to build a K’pan(house)
the day father burnt the fields to yield rice for mother
the day your stove was so warm child
the day the wine vat was so in your home child
seeping into blood into your bright eyes child
the sound of T’langput inserted into your chest
child, do you think of me still?

the dance steps around the wine vat
like a dream around the bed
like how much I’ve laboured to love you, child
in strides by you someone exiled
child, in praise of you, the tragic violin concerto
echoing the storm
a flame wet in your eyes child
a reflection of you on shards of glass
child do you still think of me?

sails of childhood amidst the blinding ocean
our boat floating like flowers
blooming to fill the night
beneath your eyelids the horizon not lost
a green leaf fell to budding seeds
a marriage between heaven and earth
from the origin of tears
equatorial sunlight shattering into warm rain
our homeland reviving impossible white coffee blooms, mild
quiet fragrant winters
falls frosty aching sadness

o country
a compelling game of fate
beg Thee laugh not at my rotting awry life
but in thy name, we’re on the verge of tears
frail timid alone
raining on the easing sweeping meadows
raining on grassy fields
raining…