Tag: truongca

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