Nếu như những kẻ ác cứ âm thầm làm việc ác thì chúng ta cần phải gom chúng lại (ra) khỏi chúng ta và tiêu diệt chúng. Nhưng con đường phân chia (khác nghĩa với chia sẻ nha) giữa thiện và ác cắt ngang ngay giữa trái tim của mỗi chúng ta, và liệu ai trong chúng ta sẽ tự tay bóp nát một mảnh trái tim của mình?
dig, more digging
dirt and more dirt
until the fields are no more
the trenches flushed with fresh blood…
and the smiles
on those fiddling with the gold rings
on their fingers
busy trying
to make a change…
“Nothing gold can stay”
At the golden hour, you are mine and nature alone
Your glory in the fleeting light
Your beauty your might
In the coming impending darkness, you shine
You are finally mine.
You shall walk alone in the dark
Tripping on your own thoughts
To after rise
Beneath the Sunlight
You will set free the truth
Allowing the vines of others to latch onto
The souls you’ll find
Residing in the Clouds and the Leaves
you write
in the creation of a world on fire
hence the further hardship in poetry
more glory in the palm of your hand
the words swell upon your command
you write encryption on the rocks
often rather complicated
the vows
of a nation
you polished
the written words
with your agonizing sweat
write with all that is within your grasp
so much so the hairs on your skin would curl up
along with the thoughts in your head
write
the impossible
drill a hole through this
Godforsaken life…
By Lê Vĩnh Tài, translated by Nguyễn Thị Phương Trâm Right or wrong Short or long Dark or light You write You can’t deny I have but a dream Last night A cloud of bats in flight Upside down side up right Dropped The viruses As black as the ink Inside the insides of a […]
and these dense grey locks of mine
rested upon this chest
whereupon this desolate land
did I began to cry
The lady is fully aware, the gentleman is very liberal in bed at the moment with a dog.
…
Nàng biết, chàng và con chó đang chơi trò tự do trên giường.
April 30, 1975
—
A translation for my children.
no one takes her to weigh
she is too light
she hops around on the grass
in the wind to scrape up
a song
making the grains of dust as light as her
dream of blooming
in conclusion ideals are passions
parallel with darkness
like a single breath
even, under the moonlight
we’re all digging for survival
eagerly
bubbling away as though we’re floating.
now like vibrations
the phone in our pant pocket
people returned to their homes
tried to dig up
a life
an exhumation
a book now valued by the kilo
of paper
and thoughts valued by
the implications
behind…
the light fishing boat
at the end of a diminished darken horizon
the flicker of torch light on the boat
like a ship crew
like the sea
never dies
like we are now, alive
though we may have changed
even when it comes to games
remember,
the afternoons
at home
watching your mother stared at the emptiness
of the sea.
the referee blows the whistle at the conclusion of a ball game
the kicking of human lives
you bowed as they
laughed out loud, as they pull a medal over your head
it destroyed the simple things in life
they don’t need to breathe easy when they love
they shove it in then pull it out, a little
a little more
a little deeper.
they want everything
there’s nothing more joyous then exhaustion
an obedient world that brought them ecstasy
and those pushed to the side
after an unruly engagement
no one wants to remember
the rules of deception
but the inspiration that they’ve given you
a resounding echo
like the sound of 105mm Cannons
in your backyard, the battering
When will it stop?
the entirety of your words
and everyone smiling
like apes
a promise like your teeth
chipping with time
in arduous
re-education.
