to THANH-THANH
Writing
this last poem I tremble to conceive…
It seems to be unknown why
I also write
These wintry rhymes in this
evening so trite.
My heart is too lonely,
endlessly in blues;
The mourning setting sun
shadows my shoes.
I have read and read from
the Central Clime
The verses so chilling as
in the chilly time.
Alas! How deep is his
feelings’ command:
Silence in the soul,
whoever would understand?
Although I want to write,
say so much;
Oh! My emotion has turned
uncouth to touch;
More than once life seems
to be deserted:
Quiet in the mind myriad
evenings introverted.
How my innermost flutters
as I can sense
Each sentiment stung,
feeling upset, so tense;
Storm slashing, remembrance
racking, manifold
Have cumulated in my breast
since lives of old…
But how to write? it is so
ruthless, how to fit?
Golden dreams remain
dreams, such a tiny bit!
And why to write? What a
forlorn fate!
The two are to go their
ways all life separate!
I wished, in my dreams,
there is a certain time
We hold their hands, gently
reading a rhyme…
Apricot flowers softly hang
down on our hair;
Attachment shines in my
eyes with a waiting air.
You are not just impassible
like some strange guy
As inattentive as any kind
of vague passer-by!
I have experienced queries
many a night…
Well, I am fain… to dispel
of fancy that flight.
Yes, Thanh my dear! Thus is
my impression;
My affection is too little
to answer the question.
You are so far, far-away,
at a distance blear!
To link a love, down to the
South you do not near!
I live here with my aged
beloved mother;
Twice daily marketing, time
passes as a souther;
Walking in the desert,
hermitage to gloom;
Poems have been written,
dreams not to bloom!
I do not remember how many
letters to amaze
I have received and read
since the old days,
The paper conveyed their
heart-to-heart theme
But I have never known of
anything to dream.
The figures past and past
at all inconclusive;
My heart is still in a
pristine season, elusive!
So many river wharfs I did
not moor anywhere,
Neither await, nor tarry
for, much less dare…
But today I have just
received from you
Such a confidential poem,
what a solitary cue!
I do feel my heart flutters
and my tears flow;
Yet, my dear, how should I
react now, hillo!
Only in dreams; yes, that
is only in a dream
Because we are separated,
against the stream;
Even hundreds of words
could not unite
The two domains, bind the
two souls alright!
Then, a certain morning,
the sun begins to shine
Piling my heart with
perturbation, full of brine,
I will be walking
loungingly, vacantly, hurt,
Pronouncing vaguely your
name in the desert…
Why you want me to burn the
small pages,
The lonely letters sent me
since… the ages?
No! I wish to keep them
– in my innermost
A remote outline, even not
of a shadow a ghost.
I have written my feelings
out with all my heart,
Oh! the Central Region that
still stays apart!
This evening with eyes that
tears overcame,
I am sending my last poem
to my… old flame…
Saigon,
in 1953 summer
HUYỀN CHI
(sent to
Thanh-Thanh on June 10)
Translated by Thanh-Thanh and published in his