PoetryWorld Literature

The Atonement – Poetry from Vietnam

Poetess HOANG THUY ANH from Vietnam, the land of Blue Dragon shares her seven poems.

 

Hoang Thuy Anh

Poetess Hoang Thuy Anh - Sindh CourierHoang Thuy Anh, is member of Vietnam Writers’ Association and Quang Binh Culture and Arts Association. Her published works include – Poetry of Hoang Vu Thuat – viewed from the poetics of Roman Jakobson, 2010; Poetic Sonatas (Essay – criticism), 2012; Multi-Voice Echo (Essay – criticism); The woman born from rain (Poetry) 2017; Literary criticism & consciousness of the Difference (Essay – criticism) 2018; Ho The Ha Poetry & Dream of Singing Grass (Special treatise), 2020; The power of wounds (Essay – criticism), 2021; The truth is a splendid flower bunch (Essay – criticism), 2022. She is recipient of literary several awards.

 

The atonement

Locking the left face

Breaking freely from ten silly fingers

I’m burying in the night

 

A dull street is like a foolish cup

Happiness on this side, broken on the other side

Everybody eating the pain feeling

Trying to twist ourselves to be just enough for the shadow

 

Where the dumb man and the proud blind dog

Where the mother holds her child to carry all winter

The empty space is excess unsteady

 

Saigon practices to speak

Saigon practices to be lonely

Only the poem is the evidence

Carrying the fleetingness through

 

I picked me up

To express myself with Saigon in the future

The moon is very light and pure.

***

Tears

(Sorrowed for babies V.A và Đ.A)

 

Holding hands, full of darkness

Lifting a child out of the sky

Time is like a road

Dumb & blind

 

The shadows squeezing into the dolls

To nail the babbles

The crying is not enough to peel off the layer of silence

Shrinking among four walls

 

The truth always kicking

Even if someone covering in flamboyance

Like the mission of fire

Is self-burning

 

The children who entering this land

They light themselves

The earth is overflowing

Rolling towards the tears.

***

A still life painting

Corns, rice, a sticky rice plate

Like a still life painting of smoke wings

Hands, smiles, funny ideas

I make the transparency about you

 

With the crackling smile of the fire

With the indescribable fragrance of a water

The sound section of pounding rice

Beautifying the joyful signs of joy

 

Dotting, swiping, spraying… language particles

Winging of the light

And, the storm moment

From the side that is always imagining, dreaming

 

Like at the season

You can adventure

And move

In the garden created by me.

***

Behind the bullet

A presence of a throne

Enough to light thousands of faces

The parchment overflowing on the finger path

The scratch of the heart passing through each other is sharp and long

Sharpening every mile of land

 

God created men god did not create a veil to cover the body

The time is full of chases

Flickering & floating

Defaulting the portrait of migrants in lonely apocalypse

Any era wrapping up that cycle

 

The child did not reach to the gun muzzle

A question popping up in the refugee cry

Born to be free or born to compromise or born to back down

A long group of people looking for the ancient country

 

Leaving behind Giao Chi footprints

From blood from tears

Human beings made themselves again

Only the light rising

And beginning to mold three hundred and sixty-five days of happiness

Every minute passed

Human beings have never stopped eating their own limitations.

***

The most beautiful poem is the one you can never be touched

Deeper than the past

Longer than the future

The poem hearing the echo of the night

Gliding in the light

 

Roads flying upside down

The trees facing to the sky

The eyes falling full of leaves

The fingers are too many hollows

Only the poem is greening

 

The poem has the right to speak

Has the right to love

The shadow is just a metaphorical outline

Erasing the inside flows

 

No one can stop

The infinity of the poem

No one can read it all

The secret of the poem

 

The first poem will be the experience of another poems

After giving birth

The poem tearing itself to continue.

***

A version

A shadow is higher

Does not mean the shadow is deeper

The shadow doesn’t fall

Is to acknowledge the shadow of others

 

Want to weigh your shadow

Let start with your voice

 

Coming out of the shadow

Long and wide fragments

Helping you tidy up the tiredness

The shadow slave

You are the sinner who corroding yourself

Darkening the way

 

Shadows that living in another lives

Never repeating the dating

Child-like shadows

Asking to grow up.

***

An illusion

You don’t scream

Outside, the purred cats are watching

Don’t get trapped

Supposed a couple of twenty years

Otherwise this grave will belong to their censorship

Shhh shhhhh

 

What do you hide from me?

Every thought is completely orthodox

Only one thing

You can’t make a key to open the grave and put the rose on it as you ever promised

Speaking grumpily to make me look old

Shhh shhhhh

 

Try a little hard

In front of a blood-colored mirror, I am still very beautiful

Going through the old loneliness

Going through the night syntax I will see you

 

The cats may be ignored or frozen

About your proud love story

But at least they seem to listen

Where can my puberty heart go to?

 

After all, which one of mine is the same age of yours?

Shhh shhhhh

 _________________

(Translated into English by Khanh Phuong)

 

 

 

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