Bach Diep
Hailing from Le Thuy, Quang Binh, she lives in Hue city. Bach Diep’s publish works include ‘Lam Dance’ (2012), Podocarpus macrophyllus (2014) and ‘Biota orientaliss season’ (2020). Her poems have been published in Van Nghe Newspaper, Military Arts Magazine, Song Huong Magazine, Writing & Reading, and other newspapers and publications. She is recipient of ‘Song Huong’ magazine’s fine poetry award 2012.
The village
I remembered
The first time I went to the South
The ship’s wind blew my hair
Towards the hills
I cried every time
Even every time I went to the North
I remembered the village on the street balcony
Deciduous seasons
The rains called back the silence
Why were we so far?
The rain shined on the rails
I remembered the first time you kissed me
The stars twinkled like the village water pond
Then you did not wait for me on the platform anymore
The hills slide away from the window
Keep the blue shirt
My mother told me to go back to the village
Pick up what I’ve lost
Barefoot I climbed over the poplar trees
The house in the chest had a window
It was the opening spring field.
***
Ha Noi
I told to myself
Hot gnaphalium affine cakes on the corner of Hang Da Street
Sticky fragrance to soft lips
At five o’clock in the morning
Lotus Com* kept hands warm
I loved you for one more day
With the scent of Ha Noi
Loved you for one more day
Remembered the sound of the tinkling train
Afternoon drooped leaves like trees
Who took off your shirt?
Forgot my eyes color
Infatuated
Streets in old season
Trees and leaves cling to each other
My hands held you without words
I dreamed every night
The sky in Hue was romantically misty
Dreams called at five o’clock in the morning
The dreams had the scent of opium
Stormed the deviated blanket
You did not remember whether my eyes were brown or velvet
Your Hanoi was raining white
Why was I angry with the city?
Loved and be painful for no reason
Just a few things
Mixed up Vu Di Thien An, the sound of hens and breeze
Fleeting like a child’s dance
Across the grass
Trembling by the broken ice shelf
Game of kisses…
Dear Ha Noi!
Just for one more day
The burning look was faded
I can’t speak out
Love you again!
(*Com is a flattened and chewy green rice in Vietnamese cuisine)
***
The bouea macrophylla tree
When I opened the branches
A childish sky in grassy color
Like an upside down bird nest
And the singing bird somewhere
In the chest of the village
When I got spanked or waited for the meal
Under the little thorns I laid quietly
No one knows where to find me
A soldier cycled through the village
Soldiers on the road crossed through the forest gate
Left a few green parachutes under the bouea macrophylla tree
We accepted as gifts
As the promise of peace nearby
Then they left
Lost in middle of the night moon
They disappeared in the forest sky in the West
My aunt cried every night
Bouea macrophylla tree heard the vows and called a person named Minh
A legion of green parachutes backpacks
We grew up under the bird nests
Bouea macrophylla bore ripe fruit in several seasons
My aunt was in white hair
Like the parachutes dried on the branches of bouea macrophylla tree
Afternoon and afternoon again
No one biked passing by…
There were many things that cannot be kept
There were many things that cannot be forgotten
Then one day
We already known how to whistle
Flowers and grass opened in the garden
Bird nests opened
A dome of heaven
Peace
Dark green.
***
Don’t sing when climbing up the hill
Children
Draw the summer sleep
In the wind hut
Afternoon the chests breathe hurriedly
You are here
Touching each other to touch the night
The sound of soft grass
The hills that the stars all know
My sad tree root
Don’t sing when climbing up the hill
The sunshine will take you away
Not the way home
The stars are sucking in the darkness
The forest will be fallen and the day will be closed
The sadness flowing through
A rebellious dream
From the enduring prayers every night
We are alone in the forest of our own lives
We are alone in our embraces…
It’s just the wind, it’s just the wind
Don’t sing when climbing up the hill
White-haired children
And summer sleep
Opening…
***
My older sister and I and the village
We were like wild houttuynia cordata flowers
On the hillside to catch the morning wind
Breasts were like 14th lunar moon
Laughters were sky well blue
The older sister and I carried water from the lotus pond
The golden sun broke into pieces
Picked up the sound of birds, jubilant leaves
The village roads were cheerful in the mornings
In the hammock knitted by the grandmother, the older sister lulled me
Lulled through one wing of the house
Lulled back to the ripe cornfield
The whole village was full of praised singing
The sky was wet in rain water
Gardens was sad treasures
Only the ants known clearly from the areca hole
The wind, the fence was tearing
The smell of dry cow dung, the smell of straw was warm
Let me feel less lonely when realized myself growing up
Keeping the blanket of crops on windy nights
Listening to the village sound through the sparse leaves.
_______________________
(Translated into English by Khanh Phuong)
[…] Also read: The Village – Poetry from Vietnam […]