The bulbul
A bulbul with white spots and a red hat
Sings on the towering tree:
Tee-whit… whit… tee-woo...
Quickly I draw a cage of thought
Afraid the bird will fly away.
Just when I finished the drawing he took off,
I hugged the sunny frame, the windy frame;
As the green bough chased after him.
Of his disappearance without a trace, I thought
Later the bulbul will be back to peck worms,
The ripe red fruit.
Every drop of water
Is my purity
Tee-whit… whit… tee-woo...
The bird needn’t fly back again--
I hear birdsong now, quite clearly.
(Trans by Trần Nghi Hoàng. Edited by Frederick Turner)
The scent of cỐm
Autumn returns in shy
Vague mist upon green rice.
That dress, that scarf, as smooth as silk, the skin, the flesh...
The northeast wind is rising up to heaven.
Rhythm of pounding Cốm, bustling season of the sticky rice:
Baskets slowly sieving out the husk. Ruddy
Fragrant grapefruit moistens the sunny drought.
Pureness the inflorescences ohmantus fragans
Between heaven and earth the lotus tuber after rain
Tormented by a deep longing at each tightening circling roll.
The green lotus leaves are giving succor to you and me,
Over-ripening the horizon clouds of summer
To nights of making love in lamplit silence,
Persimmons drenched with the fragrance of flawless Cốm.
(Trans by Trần Nghi Hoàng. Edited by Frederick Turner)
Oh buffalo calf!
Steam early in morning, garden deep into night
Rising high to each edge of silky grass
Smoother than layers of fuzz
Greener upwind
Buffalo-calf looks for his mother
Respires into clouds, the sounds of rice fields, trees budding
Knocking of hooves on the ground
The round ball bouncing up
Mole - cricket, mantis throwing the pair of sturdily built pincers
The early sunshine illuminates the body of buffalo-calf
Spreading out the caressing eyes look
Interchange of seasons vault of green leaves stretches tight
Hides underneath the bridge, waiting for buffalo-calf
I run after my shadow to roll it back
Feet touch the grass jumping up high.
(Trans by Trần Nghi Hoàng. Edited by Frederick Turner)
Autumn came!
That leaf falling
The ground will sink down
Resounding the bell dispels dark clouds
Sun will be hot and dry
The northeast wind trembles into a small alley
New books fresh as infant breath
Sweet of sugarcane overflowing at the top
The patient worms plaiting shiny streaks of ovum around the base of century-old tree
The young calf touching his soft tongue on grass blades
That leaf falls
Don’t know anybody lucky to come close
Moments fall back.
(Trans by Trần Nghi Hoàng. Edited by Frederick Turner)
Eco-friendly
Earth is a maternity ward
The first cry of a newborn transmitted to natural space through lines
of code …
That night, season freshly started
Softly he gave her a swift kiss through the canopy
When a dewdrop melting in the lush green branch
Loneliness sweeping through midday hot and dry
Trembled leaves falling from season passing by
Fierce and yet as gentle as a breeze
The breeze from seafoam the shade of sky
Dawn arisen brightening half your life
The other half has merged into darkness
Lawn along the paths hastily greenish
Left some trace of its colour on his shoes
Ocean wave on top of the tree whispering outside each veranda
Time will hurriedly pass as the ship sailing away
When each of us is a leaf everyday
Then rooftops and bamboo groves are around our house
Earth is a maternity ward
The first cry of a newborn transmitted to natural space through lines
of code …
(Trans. by Võ Thị Như Mai)
-Mai Văn Phấn is a Vietnamese poet
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