|
Poetry by Mai Van Phan
English translation by Do Xuan Oanh
True
On leaving
he wore sweater of duck-neck color and large seat trousers
hair crew cut
hand holding a book
reaching the door he still mumbled :
light then dark... stinking then fragrant... pump then deflate... slap then pity... half-ripe then overripe... keep mum then scream... stuck up then slacken... eat then caught at the throat... peel then conceal... threaten then spare... supply then default... gag then let open... miss then perish... extort then find...
bolt the wooden door
dragged the iron door
he pressed five safety locks
then threw the key inside...
Moving the heap of blankets where he used to lie
saw a piece of paper with scrawling letters :
“Whoever found me anywhere, please call number...
With thanks and gratitude.”
behind the piece of paper still echoed :
stir then muddy... disgrace then lament... dissolve then agree... delirium then conscious... request then drop...
Lesson
Arm and elbow always rigid
Must be supple from wrist down to fingers
Hand to stately perform in the bag
I learned this lesson since childhood
(Once being despised like ferment rice
The stately guy trod me down the pavement
Scared for the rest of my life !)
Stately killing a mosquito
Stately speaking in general terms
Stately bowing emptily
Stately stealing a raincoat
Stately breathing smell into other’s mouth
Stately protecting a wrong decaying tooth
Stately urinating in public
Stately sniffing on handkerchief
Stately adjusting the cock under pant pocket at a meeting place
Stately blowing nose on glass window
Stately squeezing money from a beggar
Stately overhearing telephone
Stately looking at the sisters’ breasts in a funeral
Stately signing name into a scientific work
Stately writing love poem as being already impotent
Stately sending virus into other people’s e-mail
Stately changing exam exercise by fraud
Stately spending counterfeit money
.....
Arm and elbow always rigid
Must be supple from wrist down to fingers.
Just a dream
They muzzled
plundered everything
and asked me for the sexual organ
Only asking they said
for if I didn’t agree
that precious thing would be thrown into latrine
(they knew all secrets and the magic words)
I said :
you can take all
but let me keep something private
I volunteer to be toy, rag, dog servant...
I stooped to receive yoke on the shoulders
I fluffed and began to bark aloud
I swung and cried beep beep
I ground my body on the floor
I ran around and my mouth foamed
I sweated, shammed death, fluttered
I crumbled, stampeded, broke into pieces
I soaked and squeezed water...
Always keep cool to see visitor off at the gateway
Once tea was made
I turned around
the visitor was no longer there
I dialed
The house people said he died seven years ago
Mistake (!)
In one’s own home
everything upset
Couldn’t remember when the portrait was taken down...
where the spring-run clock was ?
and who gave the sham-antique tea set ?
Dropping by the neighbor
trying to query about some foodstuff
kind of price increased
kind of price maintained
At home
Tea was still warm
Pushed the cup towards where the visitor had sat
Death coldness about 1m60 high erect in front
now and then kowtowed.
On top of the poles
My tongue tied
hung on top of the pole
each time speaking
the tongue had to shrink
pulling the flabby body up high
I writhed like a rag wriggling in strong wind
While thinking about painful tongue
Suddenly a butterfly wing grew on stone edge
Rosy wing made embankment tremble
And the board advertised invigorating drink
with gas spraying high quality fog
Another romantic spot !
The girl squirmed her back on calendar cover
smiling fresh and raising hand long enough
I existed because of butterfly wing, ad board and unknown girl
They spoke for me by tongue end in the abyss.
But why did they exist separately ?
Certainly the tongues also hung on top of other poles.
And you, stand over there !
Tonight
many odd things.
But sleep had soaked of poison alcohol
Memory muddled
TV screen lost waves
Eyelids strained into addled eggs
mouth open two dead snails
two carbuncles just extract.
Someone whispered by the ear :
Stay awake to see moss cover the firmament
Water surface eat up the last stars.
Tonight
Snakes, centipedes, scorpions flood into the city
But have no fear !
All buildings are now designed the form of blockhouse
In the dark no one gets to the street
After zero hour in the house next door
an intellectual awoke to smile artlessly
and confessed what he said in daytime was a joke
What a trifle !
Someone was lurking on the tree
waiting for leaves to fall and turn into money
Hide it quick before dawn
All might be confiscated or eaten up by the ants
Okay
Let me lie in wait here
and wake up at five in the morning
Suppose
I slept on the bed
The dog on the floor
at 03m75 centimeter from me
It began to rain
We began to dream
The dog dreamed
of waking up in early sunlight
acquainted with odor of passers-by
no need of rushing out and furiously bark
not being despised and beaten
the familiar food had been served
I dreamed
of sleeping in the night without the need of locking door
of going out without being duped by anyone
people said what they thought
a glimpse of good food and nice sunlight
Pity for the dog !
Tears woke me up
Pain rolled into silvery waves
Suppose it didn’t rain last night ?
Suppose I didn’t sleep on the bed ?
Suppose the distance was not 03m75 centimeter ?
Him
I
Where darkness devoured darkness
he sat mumbling :
...continued whisper
of dark yet to be
of dark swallowing dark little by little
of black that couldn’t be blacker
He was where the perfection
of broken mirror being whole again / insect being born / virginity
being lost / cable being snapped / sewer being unclogged...
a dump of rags / pieces of glass / sanitary towel / outmoded footwear
a flying bullet touching the target / resuscitated menstruations /
stream encountering the sea...
Creeping up a big tree
he called aloud :
Hey, shed the light in here !
By glimmering flashlight
people saw him open arms wide and hovered like an angel.
II
He laughed and waved fist thru a hole dug on a piece of board. Bony fingers curled into iron fist to plunge thru the center without obstacle. He thought, hand seeking delight of a dog gliding thru the big wall. Position of the board raised for the other hand to get thru was a too small gap. Thirst for breath.
Every time plunging thru the hole his hand open wide again. The board was like swimming jelly-fish caught into a bunch of hooks. Turning around the board he sang : blue sky hey ho...this is the vault of a large chest...
Other side of the board was another world. Signboard, old teacher, evaluation minutes, market, commemorative badge, sewer cleaner, society of fellow-countrymen, monk, bathing oil, mouse trap, prophet...and the fashion was also different (that’s what he thought !) No wonder he didn’t plunge the other arm (!)
He threw the board into a litter box, stood firm, repeatedly boxed the conventional hole, then plunged away at a giddy speed.
A forecast on the future of sport. With solemn title on the evening paper, his name appeared among the list of champions.
Syndrome from a rumor...
I paid double the shoeshine price
double money for buying plastic sandals
double money for buying a fan, a pack of toothpicks
Please don’t (you) lean on the ground
don’t snort, flatten belly, curl yourself...
I didn’t bargain money for children’s additional course
nor bargain tip money for attending conference
nor bargain money for massage, hair wash
nor bargain money for medicine prescription
nor bargain money for avoiding rain under the porch
nor bargain money for sitting on seaside bench
nor bargain money for price compensation to salary
Just shove the bill through ticket window
put return money behind the glass panel
stoop to hand the bouquet up high
look at the ceiling and self-confidently explain
drink water the way robot drinks
get thru the crowd like in no-man’s-land
pitch the fishing rod and do other thing
climb rope ladder without sticking fast the hand
start machine step on gas and go straight
Please don’t (you) try to turn up eyes
don’t burst into laughter and show much white teeth
don’t swell cheeks and glower
don’t show sharp nails forward
don’t crane body to drink river water
don’t skin well-baked animal
don’t crush fruits of brown color
don’t stamp foot or tiptoe
don’t lie curled up and snore too loud
don’t scream or boil in the mouth
Mind not to stick out head and hand
Mind meditate or be diligent in reading
Mind not to tread and spit on the wall
Mind cover the mouth when sneezing
Mind flush the lavatory after use
Mind pronounce the word clean and clear
Mind raising the cup and drink slowly
Mind cover the blanket tidy when sleeping
Mind brush teeth and use the comb...
... “...a ferocious beast just left the jungle...”
Peering
In the garbage bucket was a set of fish bones
nibbled of all flesh, its posture remained solemn
by a chopping block crisscrossed of blood stains
the kind of block to use but once.
The woollen hat still kept warm air
with a whiff of shampoo for making head skin smooth
Owner of the hat had no fungus at hair roots.
Scissors. Vacuum flask. Pen…
A few blank papers
by the minutes, it seemed a meeting
had entered names of president, secretary and representative from upper echelon
“Today, at 17:30, in…
Total : 32
Absent : 04, with excuse…”
In the garbage bucket was the wing of a paper kite
piling on the bouquet, five or seven pair of shoes.
Wind kept blowing artlessly through the flute pipe.
Garbage bucket lid had a printed line :
“no pollution here. Friend, please take it easy !”
Top-notch watchfulness
my mind wanted to guide the mouse creeping out from narrow sewer
to courteously crawl into garbage bucket and lie dead tidily
garbage truck would bring the mice away to bury
Forever the city would have no mice.
Another way of thinking :
Scoop water in Hai Phong port
Water turned itself clean
Itself bottled and rolled into restaurants, hotels…
Poor people come there to collect money.
I was consecrated phenomenon
photo published on cover page
entertained until dead drunk.
You or five or seven girls helped me home ?
Caught a glimpse of somebody cycling in narrow alley
Or tens of thousands actors performing amid the square ?
Never exert oneself to speak about confidence and hope
when crossing narrow door slit
sea wind was shooting in each arrow pleasantly fresh.
Aware would survive
The house of hamlet chief had a road
pierce into its front door.
Open fortune-telling book to consult
there might be disaster.
The book also said
in item Mole
page 267 third line from down up…
hinting those who flirt and court…
A mole on left eye of the girl collecting electricity fees was identified
being caught in the act last night
hugging and kissing hamlet chief in the dog meat pub…
“Minutes were made into 5 copies
of equal juridical value”.
Old man owner of dog meat pub knew too many things
questioned by other people
forced to give statement during five hours
back to gateway got violent scold from the wife
Silver haired and still stupid !
The old man felt bitter at the nose
choked with anger to the neck
but thinking it over
found it too true
stealthily drank a few cups of alcohol
went out to the yard looking at sunshine.
Next time aware only keep in mind
What for speak out.
Revolve with the roof
Awake in the night. Furniture in the room bristled with mushrooms and ears. Statue hung down into a handful of pasty earth. Fan open for a last time then closed to make a bamboo tube. In the dark, voice of dead and gone artists together echoed :
Revolve with the roof to wake up all things!
I revolved with bottles, toys, bulbs...From the lips of glass blower, place of metempsychosis for innumerable sand and pebble. From letters trembling to see pulp sink among cleansers. Ink drops gathered then spread away like oil stain. The suit of solemn clothing drooped. That was the time to observe silence for natural silk and cotton plants. Darkness swallowed all stale food without notion of gastronomic culture. Fragrant tea went back to the woods. Water screamed in a cracked bottom pot.
Revolving things couldn’t stop. Revolving litter box stuck up in photo frame, ceiling fan, telephone wire. Underwear pinched at cupboard and muscle building machine. Worn-out broom, mosquito killing can, CD discs, creeped into fridge. Fish breathed its last on the way to window. Flock of house mice drowned swimming across a pan of fat. Washing powder revolved sprinkling on fruits, knives, chopping block, altar. Bowl of sauce revolved with slab of coya curd. Bottle of chilli sauce threw itself away in upside down position. And the second needle revolved much slower than the hour needle...
Everybody revolved and woke up. Still enough time for drinking and washing face. Chose for oneself any of those things. And quickly set foot on the Start line.
Soul had flown away...
.....
Hammock of spider torn in melting dew
Tongue of grass freely softened
Clouds drifted to hastily fill up
horizon that just buried the shade of night
From earth blood had resurrected
to become young resin welling the fallen leaves
Shade being patient and taciturn
Sound of magpie sprayed a bunch of fireworks
Wattle prevented bud that just sprouted
In rivulet cleared the blood vessel
Glass of tongue broke out a voice
to justify each smeared photograph
Letters in notebook just dreamed of fire
about to become ash recovered itself again
Moving the house to immerse even joss-stick
How come incense smoke still hung about...
Village
Water drove on top the pond’s shade
submerged each other’s stalk crumbled the fate of bindweed
tenterhooks on the way back
Roots preserved earth
Path of round breasts involved fragrance
linked face to so many craniums
on hand passing off and on
Again the path
footprint of reaping sickles
footprint of scimitars
tears spread wrinkled the bermuda grass
too painful a life of thread and needle
embanked to avoid breaking
The call broke space of lime pot
wrinkled stork wing glued with resin
blew tense malabar coat and drum and tocsin
flew away open flag and pennon
Broke up each grave
solemnly picked up each word of the ancestors
Hey village !
hands trembled to rearrange the bones
before daybreak.
Lotus
Plots of mud remained silent and didn’t flash
Pressed space and made pupil strain
Imagined the man stand on lotus rostrum issuing words
Water always entangled
Waiting for out-of-season lotus rhizome to crane up
Taking as target a mass of flying cloud
unscrutable like an act of vague letters
No more fire in the lake
Flock of deserted grass had long been cold
Wings of black butterfly flickered and shredded
burst out from explosion of tree root
Water entangled to remember
fragrance of yesterday
figure of yesterday
then perspicacious in fallen leaf and voice
Vague voice became more panic-stricken...
Still not as horrified as finger trimming lotus
shrinking in transparent garments.
Rythm tracing the path
Stirred memory
Where shade buried deep the shade
And rot thirsty of a blaze
Sleepwalking steps on the stars
Still there the hobbling thin dew
Bitter leaves creeped thru burning coal
In breath pine leaf shrouded pine fruit
Someone stored luggage and clothing
Dark shadow crouched behind antiques
Still shivered with fear when called upon
Tears blurred the era
In absurd movement of earth
Prone to lift the dyke
White smoke whirled up
Fall fell from leaf layer
Deep grave open inside the breast
Appeared the circling avenue
Splashed so many roofs being turned up
Stain on lime wall where cobweb spinned
Dull inside the sound of knocks
Urged return to the doors
Got the right to think of what was wished
Bells flew up
to embody and exist
mountain top hid stretching road
couldn’t identify you of yesterday
horse panted
profuse with grass feeling
bunch of tongues together went off stalk
through the heart and rolled into loose earth
hands bloomed lushly behind the back
I valiantly sunk deep
waiting for rebirth in soft hair
fervently covered tender eyes
strolled deliberate
haughty memorial
suddednly wiped off what was known
known
buried in blind sun, sour pickles, sauce
wiped off swollen body
finger finger ground
flying cloud groaned
extended the sound of cricket
water suddenly hissed by dark sewer
plant shook and pushed the vault of confused leaves
dizzy glaze turned the vase bottom up
flowed thru my mouth
lithely you
grew fragrant milk or young grass
got the right to think of what was wished.
Summer so close
Haughty alleys
Even statue covered of aquilaria scent suddenly disappeared
Drizzle breathed
Covering my mouth you said
- Don’t sing anymore as lyrics would become dioxide !
Displeased
Leaving ploughshare drift in the dew
Each buffalo horn jutted out from dark hollow
Lifted earth for grass to grow
Blew humid air into rotten place
Souls writhed demanding metempsychosis
Dog tail waved flag in small alley
House dreamed of being draped by another house
Birds heard among trees clicking sound of bullets being loaded, hiding among clouds roasted among twilight of fire pan
Shipworm choked by smoke open mouth and inferred on water immortality and boat in a flash
Bear hugged bee hive and dropped itself from top of the tree to where the trap was laid
…
Buffaloes hardened their bodies covered of earth
Rope of time pulled extensive
Blowed up earthen hard floor
Fire rose high from the clouds
Souls cremated for the last time
Someone was spreading arms
Spoke again and again without ever making a sound
Without inertia
More beautiful than imagined
on top of the world
neat soud of explosion
began a crack
memorials emerged
silent
somewhere ideas resounded
Laid hand to walk in
open wide chest vault
blood spurted into crest of hair
In the house with hot rice, fragrant tea
fruit was cut
sweet juice flowed
on sharp blade
Laying hand to open banks of season
Wading leech hardened itself bright
Worrying breath sprayed fog
Noise of conversation made earth burly
Light refracted
Ideas poured into cubic blocks
Door burst open
Space got deeper
Embryons took shape in high temperature
Laying hand where it always turned
Not able to win over sluggishness
Few things flew out from inertia
Without brightening
Without spurting
Without refracting
Without the sound of explosion
...........
Singing from earth
Warm cloud
or you who flew
to cover the room
and the line of trees
embraced the way of return
From the mouth of shadow
craned
seducing scent
Swinging on a high branch
ripe fruit touched your breasts
Body scald
I thundered at the heels
Ripe fruit slowly flew and dropped
swallowed all rustling dust
I chewed and devoured dead leaves
round back closed the hug
nervous the fear
unintentional sacrifice by a dying flame
All dark corners were sacred
How words of praise could be filled
Someone’s strange voice easily turned into ghost
Flying over and over
Hair captured the dry branch
Your light body made roots burst away.
Trace
Wall and door kept closed. Wisp of fragrance rushed toward me seeking a last emergency exit. Breaking the glass visage fragrance escaped inside thru dark areas confining a lot of souvenirs...each egg hatched a freakish picture, a flash of forsaken spirit attending the wedding feast, someone lighted a lamp to chase away ghost inside the tree, a morbid night cry waved on the fire...Myself in hardly defined light halo, glued to loudspeaker at hamlet end in flood season. Water hand now being dried still caught in the door slit. Not far was a thin fence. Not far was a herd of moss at birth period. Refined beaten fragrance flocked into whirlwind to delimit a last common sense. But criteria they established was so vague that truth could never be found, so the best way left was to escape. No matter in what direction and what way the escape, the trace couldn’t be hidden. In notebook of investigation teams they would be named by Latinate terminology.
Ideas not arranged
Furious wind tore the hull apart, pulled away all intentions of having reached target. Crispy, dry tongues in banging position tangled and dragged and fluttered on the road. Affected swings, affected bobbing whose rhythm is changed unexpectedly by mad light spots gone swift in memory...there was a top in the pocket that still spun...and an oar that repeatedly dipped when the boat was laid on dry sand. Wind blowing from man to man left open every meaning. Who knows who had the intention to arrange those meditation as toys. Piled the ancient statue on a newly made table, no, it must be put beside the lamp. A pair of old shoes to be put in front of the mirror, no, under a secular tree. A child’s hand tried to free its dried fingers glued to each page of the book. Dry fish on the hook wriggled to plunge back into the lake. Turned all sides for one thing to gaze at another thing, feeling it was sensible while it seemed absurd.
Wish for resurrection
The sea behind border flared up
sung in nakedness, misled, bursting
tree congealed of resin
body without antibody
quietly died
All had no fear of death
Troubled pollen mixed with corpses of butterfly and bee
Eyeball exploded outside eyeglass
Teengirl tongue slept in artificial denture
The kiss returned to hunt empty space
Mouth bitter dry in choked laugh
Start moving
Start forget
Turned to bow the coat just hung on the rack
So stationary the submerged zones
Someone put hand on my forehead
in cool water
Like inadvertently let drop
or willfully break off.
Quietly drifting
In a silent hollow
I
quietly drifted with many people
pressed my ear against a luminous hem
furtively listened but obtained nothing
motions convulsed and trembled
thru the glare of eye and lip corner
guessed repentance
or a declaration.
Memory dead dumb and slow
erected a bulky black wattle
fog flooded the shore
broke the arteries
wax effigies
eyes ravaged in black fire
The sound insulating wall was outdated
and sluggishness of today
even if seen through
more you called more it was distant
Looking at each other
You and I
swiftly drifted
to shake the space in front.
I...I, You...you...
Morning, back to work at the desk. Open notebook to list necessary things to do. Your hand from behind took my pen and pressed. The line just drawn trembled.
Wandering about like a fish, you said:
- Your room is too cramped !
- Cramped but warm - (I laughed pooh bah)
Sticking one’s chest to all things of spheric form. Beginning from lamp shade, paper-weight, tea service, vacuum flask, TV set, to wall clock, ventilator...And you taught me the way to breathe : inhale deep into the thoracic cage, press everything down the feet ! You had given me another perception.
The road was my own limbs
Once leaf drifted back to leaf
moonlight didn’t move
The road glued tight
lifted up together with horse hooves
Made the tree vault recreate me
Your hair shade of roots
Tree trunk vertical high
willing to tear away
from unequal low pressure zones
in shakings
willing to tear away from body warmth
pushed from under ground
from marrow sleeping deep in condensed air
support human lives
Decant from you
extract from you
I existed
while being non-existent
Frendziedly the top of fall dropped
Or the howl, the groan, the voice...
Foams threw into the air and ran away
Splashed into one another gleams of five colors rainbow
Off to the sea alone
Remembrance tied to hair roots
Your body facing the ocean flapped
Faces inserted one another. Meaningless words open up imagination. Placed you in an empty place, blew into toes and made your body suddenly tense and invaded space. Breath began with motions. Your feet glued to my shoulders. Drop of sweat lighted in dark throat. Didn’t care soft tongue just hung us up...
My mouth still fragrant of fruit and tea aroma you drank. Sweet cake mixed with cream and cinnamon twig. I still remembered. The seat was quite large. When shoulder bloomed, my lips lighted sacred lamp in dark corner. Flower could only express a small part of the wide land bed. Land bed shook when flower stood still.
Light was torn. If ever a morning. Really antipathetic when it was seen resemblance to eye-protruding fishes. You splashed into me several deformed flowers. Easy mentally troubled if compelled to live in astimagtic world. No, we still have voice. Each syllable would then make truth appear. Obvious truth upset all universal convention.
Gone to suburb looking for space to relax. Looking straight into a point on the green floor. Comparing oneself to a cloud ripple both flying and rallying. Your breath suddenly rose from grass root. Big rain here last night. Even cyclone, lightning without noise...You had been waiting for me long before.
Loving one another. Being rituals for chanting sky and earth. Now is spring. Mine the fate of Metal and yours, Fire. From fire Earth, Wood and Water were made. Earth trembled. River flowed. Thousands and thousands of sprouts burst out from body.
Prayer No 18
(Excerpt from Prayers)
Wind swimming wide hugged butterfly wing flickered bird song falling frozen enlightened fragrance of montionless melody scented lips corner trembled dry blood effigy together with effigy shade turned into fossil.
Bottom of deep heart sucked corpse placenta unsuccessfully filled up space without signboard alternated altar hung bee hive stained of joss-stick smoke sprayed poison liquid blurred shade of saint gnawed concrete bottom to pieces corner confused lamp rhythm not off in time dimly lighted feet traces kowtowed and waited for rotten fruit to fall into regret.
Hanging about dark alley many looks of square moulded from jaw bone always in position to scream and oscillate single pendulum in narrow background percussion noise stopped itself without the cause was known hunted to terminal panic and turned head to pity the road that only knew how to trace aimless lightning without being able to tangle and burn.
Space dense of dumb thunder all motions had now been meaningless another life began to sprout from hard callous surface.
Shade struggled back into body eating up explanation open a time of requiem eyes spread soft corner suddenly appeared firmament from the way of looking at clock hand got into a fit of quiver even if screamed or remained silent no way of touching the sap of young fruit.
After-effects
Picking up a few dots of sunlight, pecking the way of community’s gastronomic culture. Compensated for the days of starvation. Trying hard to keep cool and courteous before dawn. All are yours, such a concept resounded vaguely in each jawbone motion. Penetrated of spirit until the heel, throat instantly transmitted password down to stomach, waiting for knee to tremble and repeat it. Ankles open wide, winced that feet might tread on twilight.
Only after a long sleep was it realized that a whole past had been stolen. On green grass over there, mountain peaks had been leveled, fences carefully plaited shrunk and hovered over the head. Eye of the lamp lit in muddy night and important look of the neighbor had turned to rot. On that green grass I was born and warmed by numerous concepts. Had been a self-sacrifice, twists and turns, respect, toadies, arrogance, flatteries, wrong claims, masturbation, sanctity, false accusation, sacredness...Grass stately rose up ahead to intimidate me.
Light off. The crowd grievously returned to the city. Deliberately and accurately. Moved ahead one thousand meters to meet the square, turned right three hundred meters to see the avenue, then a school, then a bookshop, then a few inns...They silently walked while talking to dark walls, dark electric poles, dark panels, dark bits of garbage...by dark languages. They followed one another under the dark sun, sinking deep into the past. Strange that through an empty space none among them could remember what had happened here.
Took a book and swam towards the sea. Fixed a knife on the ground then watered. Covered a blanket to attend wedding ceremony. Climbed alone on high hill and raised hand to speak. Played a trumpet tune to attend funeral of spider. Wrote one’s name filling the pages, here underlined there not. Wrapped hands on two poles of the bulb waiting for it to emit light. Whitewashed those walls not able to receive moonlight. Noted money serials existing in pocket, classified and numbered them in order. Hung one shoe and used the other to beat the rhythm. Raised toothbrush and calmly pressed trigger.
Huge ant-letters flocked on me, inconsiderately moved back and forth through body holes. Confusion, heap up, weighing...which made me perceive that ants were also killers. A way must be found to chase them away or make them line up. Only semantics could now control, but all concepts had been dimming. I tried to pronounce the word “dark” to call dark ants. Immediately ants of all kinds and colors gathered to make up the meaning of “flocked dark”.
People said the river there had been sterilized. I cautiously bathed and washed from precious aromatic matters. As I waded, water turned my body black and blue then feathers grew. So half of my body under water became that of a bird. But twitter must escape through throat and tongue. Since then, my mouth constantly resisted inertia from the dark part submerged in water.
Crow’s variation
Death’s coldness drew a wick to the peak of heaven
The crow dazzled
*
Born
After the crow’s cry
Left without struggling
The package was open
Disintegration couldn’t be hidden
An herb-doctor burnt books at the garden’s end
Latest medicine in store all overdue
Sorcerers sustained punishment
their mouths shut off by iron hooks
Born
When the bell suddenly fell
To cover the head of an old male servant
A fish jumped into the cloud to commit suicide
Dropping in the air thousand and thousand hooks
Born
Ink shed down the feet and blood
curdled at the pharynx and bronchus
Writing a mark on the first page
to seep thru a thousand pages
*
Diving from a high peak
with a pair of sharp wings
Taking the center of a corpse
To cut space wide open
Hurried wind can’t bandage in time
*
Picked from the eye’s hollow
views
Posthumous image as evidence
Pecked at the tongue
and dragged
Drying under the sky a lesson of spoken language
Tearing the flesh into pieces
Dismantling the limbs
Ripping open all the viscera
The cranium just erected
Had been covered by moss
Not able to write the lines of sad remembrance
*
The crow dreamed
That all deaths were pre-arranged
After the crow’s cry
Someone had voluntarily died
*
The crow flew into the room
A weak finger was raised
to mean:
This is gunpoint
This is a machete
Even hoes and spades
Even the finger itself is hard
Rather, frozen stiff
Then iced,
Decayed and crushed
*
Don’t get near the shade
They were all crows
Spreading wings at twilight, daybreak
Clutches clung to the wind
Ground dry leaves
Broke projecting branches
The poet took shelter in the shade
Eyes of letters dug off.
*
See
Things
Glowered
For in a wink
The crow’s shade
Rushed in
One’s own shadow
Raised no voice
For fear of being turned into chicken
*
A number of people rose up from the crowd, wearing dark coats, dark masks. While running, they beat arms on both sides. They tried to turn upwards. Dark shade skimmed the ground.
*
Perching on a tree-fork in a state of over-eating and nodding, the crow dreamed that each bit of food pressed in its crop would turn into egg. Other crows flocked and crept out of five senses, instantly swooped down on their prey from instinct of carnivorous animals.
*
Utmost sufferings looked back at life believed to have died. The cloak hoarsely screamed when passing by the tables and wardrobes. The telephone slept still. The clip opened its mouth trying to hide a clutch. A broom handle clung to the cleaner and drew her back to the garbage pit. The hat brim over the head nervously cried then bent to nibble at the face of the guard. No one opened the gate. Many still found the way to get in.
*
Souls departed from bodies sought ways and means to return and fight against the ferocious crows. After a few rounds of bullets causing no injury, smoke stretched into a board and wrote the first letters of a new lesson.
*
Here is the last line in a testament:
“Start celestial burial at the appearance of the crow’s shade.”
*
Darkness gradually crept into the crow’s belly.
We too, we were being gnawed along with a hungry and thirsty river. Turbid water drops tried to leak thru the cloth slit. The vast water surface repressed ripples, hoping to retain a tree’s reflection. A match lit up still remembered that the wick was still far away. Waving hands to speak aloud alone in darkness.
The crow being indisposed throughout the night.
Nervously cried
For the first time the noise left without sending back any echo.
Screech from the door
Echo in the dream became thunderbolt
on the old bed
again returned the wide land surface
smell of rotten field raised gloomy rain
stuck to the sweat of mat and blanket
fate of stork
sunk in depressed screen
sloping furrow just rest
on pasted alluvium to fill ear hole
palm uproared of shrimp and fish
man walked to blow off earth and crumble bank
tried to keep cool and remind in delirium
before the sound of thunderbolt was that of hoe
and much before was tree catching abyss
sound of thunderbolt left without echo
to communicate with abyss nor a narrow path
screech from the door
paved the way.
Bloom
suddenly bloomed in memory
where souvenirs cramped
flower couldn’t tear away from branch
fragrance called the soul of things
assimilated symbolic picture
twined so many beautiful matters
grieved and regretted
soft finger weaved to old hand
always weaved
always revolved without it fitted
too seductive
how could you bear it
carried you up
and squeezed tighter
coming to ore seam to explore memory
too far away
shivered dizzy of obstacles and dangers
imagined you understand me
to be loved
body had offered
Halt for thinking…
…at a time when the steering wheel failed
among those cars which validity had expired
the retina suddenly open to shroud death
ready
where limit continued and ended
optimistic and lamentable
flashed my spirit swiftly escaped
a bird wing glossed like a sword thrown into the air
like dust…
worst was when the body had to turn into
diamond or plastic.
Arrow of darkness
From imagination
and deep aspiration
I pulled out arrows
and left to find aim for the day
Around me targets stayed motionless
Here lotus rhizones huddled in lake bottom
There naked children ran into me over forty years before
I vaguely gazed at the confused
Each arrow traced a rapid flying line
Through dimension of time and space
Through outlook of life and world
And I believed had hit the target
When stooping at the foot of twilight
Darkness was seen more piled up than before
Suddenly many holes were discovered
Lamps were just lit on the river
To identify you
I slept soundly not knowing
that you were looking at the rain drop
denuded dark outside the window
a tree parasol saddled my breast…
I suddenly saw the road
tilting itself in the night.
Yesterday appeared and disappeared in my breath :
a newsboard freshly whitewashed
a pedlar then a wedding passed by
at shift’s end, some fish yawned
a painter with a new beard came for a look…
Silent waterfalls fell strongly
shoesoles prepared to break away
an emergency door open at the wall foot
drizzle sprayed and grasshoppers flew by
the whole house plunged dizzy
flabbergasted, exhausted when facing dawn…
You dialed an imaginary phone number
For me to know everything from the dream.
Rhythm of autumn return
Autumn dropped thousands and thousands of ferry boats
Breathing rhythmical the dipping water sound
An invisible rower leaned on my shoulder
Both river banks trembled thumping
Rain drop broke from dream in summer
Leaf of grass rose to welcome each gulp shilly-shally
Dead leaves decayed, soul rushed to the top
Heaven returned to eye hollow in melting dew.
It certainly was so close from here to that shore
But why did it flutter throughout autumn
Who fainted to beauty of flower infatuated
Making that ferry boat return for searching.
Spring
There were plenty of Spring signs
Heavy clouds. Peach blossoms. Rotten firewood. Slippery road…
I educated the children that way.
My child pressed fingers a blew a long whistle
Calling the train to cross a dark breast
My forehead shook
Legs roared
Black wagons followed one another strenuously.
Farewell Winter !
Farewell Winter !
My children were debating time :
That was when a blazing red flower accidentally dropped on the water surface
or souls being purified flew up?
White cloud suddenly drifted through a warm hand
or the choked wet air broke into each sound of young bird?
Darling don’t fly
Holding your hand
even if everything rushed away hurriedly…
Sound of fish wriggling in another current
quiet water surface had quickly decreased
pouring cascadingly on tree shades
young resin color wholly covered the horizon.
Belfry shook and quivered
where I knelt the land suddenly trembled
picturing each craggy human face
arrow, trap, deep grotto…
and cliff melting into dew and smoke
casting on twilight a blazing red lamp.
spreading arms to grasp
nailing you on the cross of mine
even if everything rushed away hurriedly…
In the room you sat
You silently looked the page. Wind behind the garden rose water to overflow. Flooding tree shades being pleased to choke. Green beetles hastily flew out, their bodies still spotted dark. Flooding the crowd that just filled the square. Free clouds blazingly evaporated from rib cages. Flooding on river across the city. River ran tortuous then stretched bed as straight as arrow. From ocean, grass bank, rice fields…vague water constantly rose higher. Lake bottom huge pressure was forcing tight through window slit.
Small bursts
You roasted black sesame simmered with bayberry leaves and took it in place of drinking water for better eyesight. Sesame grains cracked in hot pan. Black stars shot in early sunlight.
Somewhere so close. Large mirrors were just erected to reflect all moves of the city. A flock of brown sparrows suddenly swooped in. They saw their beaks and nails magnified in the mirror, encroaching upon the tree rows, the sharp-pointed towers, upon space over crossing bridges and spread lakes. Panicky they flew away then vanished in a mass of dust. Sesame grains crackled was the splitting sound of ice block bumping into hot air. A cracking sound of woodworks in the room by late afternoon dry sunlight.
Somewhere so close. Flaps of water in a picture began flowing, peeling off affected colors, affected feelings. Sesame grains crackled when breaking a crisp pancake. Sound of food treading on small branches of firewood. Pigeon pecking grains in the middle of a straw yard. Sound of hands peeling fruits, picking vegetables, beating eggs, selecting chopsticks, clinking glasses…
Black stars in the hollow of my jumbling breast also crackled.
By the phone hearing you
Your voice on the phone sounds very clear and light
A drop just melted
A bud just sprang up
A ripe fruit just fell
A brook just flowed…
Distance to the other end of the line were rice fields, villages, shoulder poles and hangers…were vehicles, erected towers, deep roots…Your voice didn’t extend across but made them smaller, open the doors to communicate. I heard you depend on deep roots to develop sacred layers in warm earth, river flowed into shoulder poles and hangers, villages prospered with erected towers, fields turned lushly green on vehicles…
Say again for me those vague sentences void of content !
In a short while when you put down the receiver, everything will sure take pains to find their old way
Only left were ripples spreading away
Only left was melting in chlorophyl
Only left was whiffing in sweetness
Only left was stone bank shaking…
Rain inside earth
Fell the first rain drops. You remind that we once initiated from the drop of water. Crystal clear, you fell on me pure. For me to realize that nature and things around were all made of water. Overall was you waited for me to come near. Calendar leaf on the wall was starting itself a new day. Floor, picture frame, furnitures always clean. Fragrant tea just poured. Bowls and chopsticks had been dried. Knife and scissors suddenly became sharp. Books and copy-books neat to liking. And the door bolt open itself when I stepped out.
*
When wearing the anti-sunlight coat you looked like cocoon moving in street. Vehicles spinned together with human silk fibers. Piling up models of Jeans trousers, coarse cloth, fibers mixed with silk…Beginning from you, plaited from you the loosely large tunic. The moving cocoon rode moped, paging through cell phone : I had the meeting finished. You remember to wear hat and drink much water. Past ten minutes, you went to buy rice probably having just crossed one-way road, at the turn. Or buy milk for the kid, most quickly you only came near five-way crossroad.
You went through the wall under scorching sunlight. Through houses similar to loosely large tunics.
*
Sour fish soup added a few onion petioles. You said why did I eat too slow. Heard a whiff of denuded onion petioles in early summer rain. Sound of wriggling fish startled deserted night. And the scent of coriander staying loath at the wall foot…Sour soup bowl in the meal tray was like deep well its bottom can’t be seen. Alone you kept mum until the onion petioles were done to a turn. We were pests and ants self-confident to overcome untold traps. Once survived though having wrongly taken toxic drug. Human markets being torpid of dream fits…
The hot soup bowl open narrow room door. Kids were back and the whole family together ate.
*
The streak of my lips was woodpecker on secular tree. The tiny beak made forest trees change their leaves, rotten wood trunk restored to life. Green parasols covered, murmured, craned upright. Eyes closed I listened inside the tree trunk and knew that sun had risen, magnetic waves originated seism, and star shot absent-mindedly. Four seasons weather made instinct of woodpecker race prosper. Turning up high. Then stooping on the tree trunk to pray wholeheartedly:
Thanks rain from the source, lightning, passing cloud…
Thanks early dew, land, night…
*
You meditate in late afternoon. Bird songs glued to one another. Your forehead open endless fields of yellow flowers. Foot widened immense for water to rustle. Back straight - mountain hollow - light – drilling deep. Ten thousand measures were one, where was one going. Looming in space a large vase. Someone was coming back amid the drop of transparent dew. Sound of thunder extremely deep. Fragile petal craned up freely. Empty cup silently flooded…
All quiet – at standstill - clinical death – to agglomerate in you.
*
Your mouth slightly open a quiet garden area. Bees flew back and made a hive of my eyes. You looked up for the drop of fragrant gold honey become viscous to slowly run down the cup in my hand and the suit I wore but reluctant to iron and the pair of shoes I forgot to shine. Garden area calm in autumn. But on your shoulders summer always poured roaring. Deep blue sky blurred out low hanging signboards. I couldn’t stop stream of your sweat spurt in june sunlight. But sweat shedding softened stone block, softened parching track, even the trees.
*
We were splendid under night wrapping. Mingled and adhered to wood veins and grains, plaited baskets, light met at filament of the bulb…We started, consecrated each other. Became candle, clean water. Became fresh flower, fragrant scent to worship ancestors. River flowed to save forest in fire. Sharp blade cut into sweet fruit. Stone slab loose bits themselves flew with blowing wind. We reincarnated into one another. Heard milk stagnate in each leaf of grass, wild animals eyes illuminated darkness, bitter drops ran back to the bile, and ashes buried in ploughing beds. We spread bodies and became other people, making seed to depart warehouse yard, soot in kitchen smoking-shelf, depart baskets, jars and vases…to roll down the earth.
The night spring begins
Waiting around the lamp
Light spread, interruptedly
Someone was believed to hold a torch
To examine the face of each one.
Cooking up a game to kill time :
On whom the light sheds
That person would call the way spring begins.
The following words were noted down :
The cold shirking bird made arrows
fall down the wall of winter.
Looking through the window the face
Suggested scrawling handwriting
A drop of dew split
tender grass foot into abyss…
Jesting stories
Callously related to heaven and earth
Things moved unsteadily
On the mountain shadow
Birds moaned that wind changed season…
Pulling up the lamp wick
Flocks of arrows swiftly flew through the roof.
Selecting a scene
In the dream lying down on sea
resting head on your arm
You think the sea here is 8 meters deep
(I can read the thought)
with a mass of cloud and albatross
I bring dream to the street
at breakfast think of myself as a piece of Jew’s ear
boiled in the bouillon pot
a pot of 8 meters deep
Visiting friend in narrow alley
the house plate resembles Jew’s ear in bouillon pot
friend’s voice resounds from 8 meters deep
Close the door a bit since cold
vague damp vapor soaks quite deeply
Distance is seen from stool foot to statue
sound of wood-borer comes as quick as lightning
among faces in alien noodle soup inn…
equal to distance between mass of cloud and albatross
extremely beautiful over 8 meters deep
My brother
At the moment of having one foot in the grave, he asked me to help keeping memories. He said they were precious data. But the stock of memory was already brimful, even mouldy, rotten. I advised him better to paint or write a book. But he was not a writer, nor a painter. I brought up several solutions : cut to pieces, restart, reduce in size, suddenly stop, simmer well, crush into powder…
He looked at me very sad!
I looked at the river water changing its color and skimming through the drooping grass bank. Alluvium was glossy and fine. The moon rose early, innocent with a whiffing of straw. I missed my sweetheart terribly.
He looked at me very sad !
The recently washed dress was all wrinkled and silently smelled without my knowing it. Then the thin threads of fabric were again neat and smooth under the burning iron. Wash-iron, wash-iron…Life sometimes resembled a too old clock pendulum…I learned to think idly so that thinking could be continued.
He looked at me very sad !
He waited as I washed my hands. The tap flushed hard, very clean, extremely fresh. Pity him. I looked at the soap suds turning muddy on the smooth wet skin and felt comfortable.
Stare me
Tiny rain makes grass glossy. Tender grass spreads to the foot of waves. Things follow one another to change color, like dominos fall in the game. Grass leaves suck each peal of bell since early. Resound in the pair of gloves, scarf and the woolen hat.
…your eyes for the moon to shine…
Moon spreads smoothly on wide land. Land surface stays innocent under moon’s pressure. Like weals of riding whip on the shoulder, whipping hard on my back. Wind.
Wind suddenly brings the mane off he sound of my hooves beats into far away.
…your eyes stagnate the color of creamy milk…
The cup of hot milk and spoon remain quiet. Smoke whiffs the season of prime rice. A whiff of autumn pond, water hyacinth, bird nest, straw heap, water vase…A sound of bird cooing, steamed meat, hedge, grain of coal…
Lips touch the cup mouth
and my body drops into space.
Unbelievable
Was the bee that flew in the room
made of plastic or wood ?
Its variegated body full of unfinished cut traces
True, it had flown in
The sound of its flapping wings mild, ingenious.
Must not believe in a bee
I verified by small motions :
532 pages always full in the old book
I cut fingernails, unclogged the pipe
Tried to report, to sign, to destroy documents…
But it seemed
that all animals in the house
were manufactured from refuse:
was the tricolor cat born from a batch of rag?
was the fish swimming in the tank made from a beer tin can?
was the nightingale singing in the cage a broken kettle?
was the dog thrusting its head in my arm a roll of old ewspaper?
was the ant herd patiently carrying bait a heap of sawdust?
The immortal mouth
The mouth drifting over there surely is from a dead person
now on high
now touching land surface.
Has the bone of the mouth now melted into dust ?
Is it still dirty yellow
or tarnished black in terra-cotta coffin ?
But the mouth keeps moving gently and lively
now press tightly
now smile generous.
I put into the mouth phonics
like clicking search for an web site
As a result I feel dizzy
I got lost in an ambush?
Is the software infected by virus?
Or the grain of coal just fell into an ice slab?
…
The mouth emits no sound
only appears a dumb film sequence
I had dubbed into it the sound of sticks and canes,
the sound of order, draft order…
the sound of a person
and even the sound of unison…
The mouth keeps drifting
Suffice it that someone issues an idea.
Heard the news of a friend being robbed
For Nguyen Quang Thieu
Perhaps the robber slipped in thru the window the moment you felt weary. The moment your thick mustaches ceased to bristle, your half-closed eyes suddenly succulent, motionless, blood-shot …Your breath kept rising blazingly, tied in the middle of Ha Dong high tower. I want to be a private detective to immediately nab the guy who sneaked into your house. There, a cloud of human form just fell into the blue sky. No one knows if the robber also got in the house from this same posture. Now he had disguised into a decent guy while that cloud kept flying joyously. The heat didn’t cease to spread radiant. Like a poker, the robber scratched up the blazing red brazier. The flame blew thru the window, lock, air-hole…like a deeply resenting man throwing silver bars into darkness, or raising his bristly fingers to press a huge crypt. The guy had drifted down along the root of a banyan tree, worming through each white peony that calmly spread fragrance in the crypt. The robber didn’t know of being gone with invisible ashes and the silver bars…
Supposition for the next morning
In his old age, he seldom talks
Neither sad, nor angry
All night long sitting to drop lines by a puddle of mud
For an ease of spirit
He dares not yawn
For if lacking vigilance
Locusts and grasshoppers might creep into his belly
I arrange firewood so he could lean on it when weary
Next to a cup of water…
Then the early sunlight would join him
In reposing against the big mountainside
Facing a wide open lake
Either the land is erased of all traces
Or I’ve become a liar and inventor
It might be that under the black dawn
Black fishes heap up..
The wind attach to him a barbed fish-hook.
Noted at the Great Wall
Cloud puts on the shoulder each heavy block of stone
Sand blurs the eyes
The breast breathes full of sand
Great Wall still being under construction?
In the air a voice of Eunuch transmits imperial order
Any one captured making poem while carrying stone
Would be beaten to vomit blood
Forthwith!
Turning up the eyes to meet a puffy face
Cold hands, leaden eyes, greasy voice
The Phong hoa dai(*) roof of cordyline color
In form of blood-stained dragon knife being put to the throat
Bend the back to push sunlight away
Stiffen the legs to push wind away
Provided you can get near the flower
Gently playing in the stormy wind…
His Majesty / His Excellency / Comrade…
This humble servant / this dutiful folk / I…
Will fulfill obligation
This is the peak of heaven
Or the bottom of a deep abyss
Only parching hot wrinkles of the rod are felt on the back
Sweat of travellers on gray stone
Bloom into cotton-rose hibiscus…
Beijing, July 18th, 2007
---------------------------------------------
(*) Phong hoa dai : Watch-post on the Great Wall
Teaching the children
The children of my neighborhood know too much about adults so they are early infected with old-age diseases. Nightly they used to gather, whisper in the deserted gardens, assign some to mount guard for others to dig cellars and bury worn out things as precaution for changing events. They are often frightened at the shift of color in twilight, at the sound of lapping waves, at the burst of a fruit. They call for each other to diet to prevent high blood pressure, cholesterol, prostate tumor or cirrhosis. It is rare to find them cry or demand a fine. Some of them chokily said : “Tears of children flow inwards !”. Some people and I discuss the way to mount a play to entertain them, such as setting up a shop, building a palace, rowing paper boats on a brick yard…Or arranging a mimic battle, shamming dead…The children would cut leaves and put them on the nose of the sham-dead. The leaves suddenly wither and turn chlorotic. One of them, self-assured, cheerily said : One day traveling on the road helps you learn a basket of wisdom. They laugh aloud when we stand up. I become dull and stagger back to my place. My toddling feet put their foolish steps on the ground.
Reciting a dream
Last night I dreamed of being forced to act as spy, the sort of double agent, which was called double-dealing spy in my native place. I had to act because being accidentally stuck in a round up, not for the sake of money. I still remembered well the password, knew how to cut the tail, to install an eavesdropping machine, and to secretly send a telegram…But I wondered why those telegrams and rudimentary communication means of the early last century still existed ? I again felt myself getting old in a different institution. In the morning I leaned on my stick and walked out on the street listening to the blowing wind, and smiled…Then I was discovered, also accidentally. Somebody found my name among the scraps, a file in which I was a twenty parties-dealing spy. Obviously there had been an ill-bred guy who deliberately added zero to the number 2. How could a secluded countryside have at the time that much as twenty institutions ? Was the countryside a place for measuring wits ? Or an information center ? A hot point ? I was sneered at and slighted by my children and grand children as a worthless one. Being cynically calumniated, I couldn’t explain away. I wanted to cry before committing suicide. But crying without reason was very difficult for an old person. I reconciled myself to soothe a new-born who just woke up among the tightly rolling nappies.
Love text No 16 in AUTUMN FLOWERS
Here, I eat a choice titbit, here, I drink a cup of tea. I also give you a salt crystal, a wiping cloth, a sauce. And soy sauce, egg-plant, chinese pea, fragrant rice too…While being away you advise me to eat and sleep moderately, and eat for you one more spoon. I am a king-crab swimming around a table piled up with food. According to rituals of king-crab species, I always raise the food high before eating. I constantly remember you on my back, the big female king-crab that covers the ground. You are a slowly drifting cloud, the dawn en éventail, a lion fluffing out its hairs, a squirrel that moves in a flash from one branch to another. The draught twines my legs. The rain is silky, sifty, coldish…I am carrying the sky with my hard and solid legs. Seeds find light under my back. Laughings of children let fall strings of pearl. The inch-worm dumbfoundedly creeps around a chlorotic leaf stalk. A peony at the alley entrance just bloomed hastily….Monsoon, monsoon…And water runs, water runs !
Sometimes I forgot your recommendations. But it has become instinct, I again swim away and raise the food high.
|
