Home World Literature I sadly sew the silence – Poetry from Vietnam

I sadly sew the silence – Poetry from Vietnam

I sadly sew the silence – Poetry from Vietnam

I sadly sew the silence, neither the shirt nor the needle! I sew falling leaves like embroidery

[author title=”Hoang Viet Hang” image=”https://sindhcourier.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/08/Hoang-Viet-Hang-poet-of-Vietnam.jpg”]Hoang Viet Hang was born in 1953 in Van Ho village, Hanoi, Vietnam. She is member of Vietnam Writer’s Association and Hanoi Writer’s Association. She is Bachelor of literature, and is working as freelance writer. Hoang has published 8 poetry books and 12 prose booklets. She is recipient of several literary awards including Award of Hanoi Writer’s Association for short story booklet named “The Unspoken Words”, Award of Vietnam Writer’s Association for novel named “One full hand”, five literature awards for 5 poetry books: “Silence Signs”, “I sadly sew silence”, “Moon streaks and the door”, “Erase or not to erase” and “Dredging the full moon” from Hanoi writer’s association, Vietnam writer’s association and Vietnam General Confederation of labor, Vietnam Union of arts and literatures associations, Hanoi union of arts and literatures.[/author]


I sadly sew the silence

I sadly sew the silence

Neither the shirt nor the needle

I sew falling leaves like embroidery

I sew in gall and ironic grin

I sew the white hair instead of words

For every bow is an exhaustive pain

Your children, you ex-wife and your paddy field

I married you and also engaged with your every sorrow

Your words are rainbow spectrums

But your ex-love remains a secret to me

One day when there’s a fresh wind

Will you hurriedly and mercilessly abandon all to return home?

For reunion with your relatives and your pals

Leaving me suffer, leaving me dying

Have you ever dreamt of abandoning?

And having an affair with such enormously nourishing land

Taking you out of thoughts, I greet the down

I wrote these poems and leave all behind

One day when I go old, the sky is yet to close

When raising our children is yet a must

One day in a serene moon light

There I sadly sew all my life’s winters

Reason for a lotus to bound

In such a lake, two lotuses thrive

One tiredly bounds

Seems about to cry

In the bud it hides


Tears that have dried, unseen

Into the mud that brown, petals, descend

There, the blush pink it carries

How long can it remain intact?


Growing lotus amid treacherous life

Though in deep mud, it sinks

Still, one tiredly bounds

In deep mud, seems already cried


Who drew withered flowers, had passed away

His image thou, in the lotus there lie

They knew it all, do papers and water color

You painted me by tears

Erase or not to erase

How on earth, could papers and pens

Erase a name, an email address

Only a press of delete to erase for eternity

But heart argues

There’s no way to erase such a good man

Perhaps he is now smiling

In a pagoda’s corner, far away from the town

So quiet, oh how quiet

Only the dried leaves knocking at its front door


People there seldom fire it up

Fire up the old, decrepit oil lamp in a late rainy afternoon

A Pouteria Lucama there secretly thrives

I search for till its plain white

I light up to save such flower from lonesome

There, the monk silhouette falling into the end of Tam Quan door

Can we ever erase the kindness of the mankind?

Of someone who restlessly devote

Whose body burnt to ashes but not moles of time?


Within my soul of every sorrow/sadness and solitary

That one takes me to the moon light

I burned your love poem

Indeed, I had burnt all the poems

That you had given me in my twenties, broken moon

The poems hold its breath, starring at the ashes                    

Learn by heart every six-eight poems and hide in heart


I shall not keep the love poems in the shelves

For Othello – my husband, his love is way brutal

Gotta burnt them all

Moss or the one I used to know

You slip off the moon light

To other day

Moss or I

Shall not let this fate gloomed


Splendid moon

Luminously poured into the autumn rain


No artifact

No museum, yet to withhold

I have none

Even the old love poems

But the drizzling winter wind to carry …

To add up the two

Thirty thousand what says you?

A hundred thousand for overnight!

They are bargaining down the wharf

The gravel bearer and fish selling lady


Day by day, from the morning star

Till the new moon rises

All he need is to get closer

To add up two bodies


They need no glue

Cause once the night is gone

They have to walk away


They have to walk their own ways

Night by night

The gravel bearer of the Nua wharf

Has no clue after every bargain


The selling fish lady in market

That once stuck to his body


That once crazy for living

Now has gone to another river

The eulogy there he starts

Bargaining the wind

“Fifty thousand what say you?”

Then cries


Translated into English by Vo Hoang Long