World of twelve lines
From ink to paper
farther than
from me to you
Between two steps
we disappear
From death to blue sky
cross a rain bridge
On the old forehead
a question echoes
of old times
light suffuses
Which is white paper? Which is me?
A haircut
I get a haircut
smiling secretly
walking into the mirror quietly like smoke
I get a haircut
gently emerges
the face out of summer
behind the wall truths have become old
I get a haircut
a very strange man
shakes a sheet and groggily steps out.
Sadness
Sadness shines on us light the color of chicken fat
a loose handshake and bisexual smile
sadness does not wear a suit or waits for anyone
the eye is amber
beautiful and fierce
Sadness speaks with a platinum accent
in the nights that the city loses power
the street where sails are sold has no sea to head out to
Sadness speeds on motorbike, a white windbreaker across the sky
wearing another pair of glasses, looking at another life
sadness constantly thinks but never loses its way
a name that clangs at noon in summer
Sadness has very fine ears
very gentle steps
slim fingers, silky eyes
Hiding in the shadow of the book that nonchalantly shades the chest
sadness turns off the power switch
and leaves…
On the high hill
Don’t remind me
of tight streams of bullets
collapsed bunkers, smashed pieces
hurling, dashing in all directions
everyone has come to rest
they are listening to the childreen’s noises along the aiiuvial bank
so on many afternoons, the sun falls hurriedly
they are the afternoon sunlight on the far off, easy river Quay
Don’t remind me of the burning bayonets
wounds that have been brought back to this world
don’t make too much of incense and smoke or they’ll be confused
peace does not require the shadow of the Bodhi
they are Bodhi tree, immense and ageless
cold tombstones could not hold them
cast sandal,
bare head
AK in hand
mouth like fire
hair like fire
countenance hovering life fire
remember the young wonam friend who cried in the rain
Don’t remind me, please, don’t reind me
they return
on the high hill
in the moon
wave after wave yet alone
grave with grave with grave with grave.
Middle
So, alright
stop over there and listen
it's at the end of that stretch of road
a body made frail by asceticism
delicate, bland, spotless like a neutered cat
blended with our love's sorrow
So, alright
squint your eyes and nod in acceptance
living sometimes means catching your breath
sitting quietly sometimes crosses into summer
then the neutered cat will disappear
and secretly appear in your haze, friend
it presents us with an almost wilting chrysanthemum
having a life that will allow no wilting
So, alright
show it some patience
on roads full of forms
regulate your heartbeat, raise your eyes and regard it as you would a dream
by day selling flowers, filling the streets
by night streets full, selling flowers
those that with all their enigmas
nod and shake and going together into a chill
So, alright
so long
don't awaken
don't listen
but you will be able to see more once again
Peaceful
No more a place for fallen flowers
the moon is as bright as long ago
a strange ring looses at the finger
how many dreams are enough?
The pan pipe’s no longer hung in the bamboo wall
the long mirror no longer reflects
the road wears a white thin coat
the old tree listens to sleepless fruits
People by people as black as pitch
in empty houses are wandering wild cats
words to declare love have just risen
cicada skins drop.
Translated by Mai Hoang
VNQD