Categories
SHORT STORIES/TRUYỆN NGẮN

Nguyễn Văn Thiện | Bird Wings at the bottom of the Lake (49)

The sunlight was like fire through the cloud of bazan red dust. I ran after him shouting: “Men, come home as soon as you can!”. Men’s answer was a slurry of words whisked away by the wind. The bike, a red dot slowly fading away, disappeared into the emptiness of the mead. Nothing was left but the echo of the engine bouncing back from the surface of the silent lake. Đá Lake crystal clear during the dry season, imprinted clearly the form of a flock of birds with their wingspan stretching out far and wide, endlessly flying across the lake.

Categories
PHOTOGRAPHY PROSE

Nguyễn Thị Phương Trâm | A ten seconds dream (123)

  By Nguyễn Thị Phương Trâm I climbed down the side of the rock, the grey hair man followed me ten paces behind rapidly shortening our distance. Why would he not leave me be? The salty rock surface mixed in with pools of wet coral makes for a cocktail of impending clumsy falls, gingerly I […]

Categories
SHORT STORIES/TRUYỆN NGẮN

Nguyễn Văn Thiện | BURYING NAUGHT (14)

the neighbours rushed over to watch like they were watching someone having a fit. Sheepishly I laughed like I did something wrong: “I must bury this body!”. They broke out in laughter: “There’s nobody, what body?”. They couldn’t see the sizeable dead body nor the white skeleton lying in the middle of the yard. My next-door neighbour looks at me full of compassion: “Yeah, quickly bury it, before it deteriorates!”. Then he scoffed loudly and left.

Categories
POETRY/THƠ PROSE

Nguyễn Thị Phương Trâm | A full circle (114)

It’s a full circle, I have become the child you’ve just met.

Categories
FLASH FICTION

Nguyễn Thị Phương Trâm | 6 words fiction (111)

People: like whiskey, down the drain.
Con người: như whiskey, dưới rãnh.
_____
Inspired by the legend of Hemingway.

Categories
FLASH FICTION

Nguyễn Thị Phương Trâm | 6 words fiction (110)

Không còn chảy máu: già nua, vợ mới.

Stop bleeding: old age, new wife.

Categories
SHORT STORIES/TRUYỆN NGẮN

Trần Băng Khuê | Reconciliation (7)

It has been an incredible journey translating this master piece by Trần Băng Khuê. It has been my privilege.

“Những vệt máu đã khô trên mấy ngón tay. Chúng tan hoà vào nhau thành một thứ hình thù kì dị mang tên tội lỗi.”

“The blood had dried on my fingers. They merged together oddly into an appellation of blasphemy.”

Categories
POETRY/THƠ

Nguyễn Thị Phương Trâm | những vết thương không chảy máu trong thơ – THE FLAWS IN POETRY (3)

By Nguyễn Thị Phương Trâm, an interpretation by Lê Vĩnh Tài
_____
The flaws, imperfection
Scattering raw scars
Me in awe, a witness
__Poetry’s weeping

Categories
PHOTOGRAPHY POETRY/THƠ

Ngọc Thủy | as the tears come (4)

head towards the Sun
crawl across the dark valleys
I’m steeped in the deluge
the arid sunlight, a new season

Categories
SHORT STORIES/TRUYỆN NGẮN

Nguyễn Văn Thiện | April (48)

April begins with the tired hearts learning how to spell happiness. The passing rain in dreamy sketches of the mountains and rivers, the image of a familiar yet unfamiliar face, not of yesterday nor exactly the face of tomorrow. In the minutes upon the sunrise the change of heart, upon the return of the wind, there were such turns of events.

Categories
POETRY/THƠ

Lê Vĩnh Tài |blood (242)

blood
isn’t a part of any lexicon

it is flowing
it is dreaming
it is awakening

Categories
POETRY/THƠ

Lê Vĩnh Tài | 3 verses (147)

bells ringing
cadence
resounding afloat drifting in thick fog

Categories
ART POETRY/THƠ

Lê Vĩnh Tài | TWELVE VERSES – MƯỜI HAI BÀI (67)

hey, little lady

won’t you

buy me

a

ring

Categories
SHORT STORIES/TRUYỆN NGẮN

Trần Băng Khuê | The Vows (6)

The moon was bright red. My fingers in the dirt. The lumps of soft earth broke away, revealing a tongue that has disintegrated, turned black. My useless tongue. The tongue that could not keep its word. Then suddenly there it was, I discovered another tongue by it. It was tarried by the soil, but it was still clear that it was still fresh, its flesh damp with blood. I was very confused, for sure I had never buried such a tongue. Who’s tongue is this? Where did it come from? Why would anyone want to cut their tongue off and bury it as I did?

Categories
PHOTOGRAPHY SHORT STORIES/TRUYỆN NGẮN

Nguyễn Thị Phương Trâm | Just This Life (88)

His eyes glossed over white, icy, opaque. The stranger, the father of my thirteen year old daughter. I had begged him- please forget her, I forgive you. He just laughed, the light never reaching his eyes- she, to you is the mother of my child. I had loved him, the love of my life. He had picked me to dance, me the awkward skinny girl, amidst all those tall pretty ones.

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PHOTOGRAPHY POETRY/THƠ

Trương Anh Tú | WORDS OF LOVE (3)

Love is a glance leaning
upon the cool surface of the lake
through the waves sowing
the vast storms within me.

Categories
POETRY/THƠ

Lê Vĩnh Tài | I’ve spoken in a language (142)

what I’m discerning
each time I open my eyes
the world’s on fire
and the Sun’s a shadow that either follows or standing
at the border between dreams
and the ashen truth
of destruction and tombstones

Categories
POETRY/THƠ

Ngọc Thủy | THE FIRST KISS 1 (3)

the longer we kiss
the trees sway, shook their head
you’re going to get hurt
you’re going to cry

Categories
PHOTOGRAPHY POETRY/THƠ

Lê Vĩnh Tài | Once a day, the butterflies wander and play (51)

You unsheathe the dagger on your hip. It gleamed. Sticking the blade at her throat. You asked: “Aren’t you afraid?” She laughed: “Why should I be afraid? I know you love me.”

Categories
PHOTOGRAPHY POETRY/THƠ

Trương Anh Tú | A VERDANT OASIS IN OUR SOUL

As pure as a water droplet
She is a spectrum of colours
As fragile as a blade of grass
A verdant oasis in our soul.