have not returmed to Trung Phuoc to revisit
native land, for almost forty years since I left it
get tired of exploring various places that enthrall
with so many failures and not less rise and fall.
lovable is the rough and sinuous village way,
bamboo hedges, pigeons cooing at midday!
jackfruits' smell portends they are ripe soon,
call, summer noon hammocks hum croon.
band of grey clouds covers Ca Tang Mountain
have a bumper crop of Ba Trang rice brings rain.
paddy fragrance nurtures love of native soil nice,
trees wither, showers urge sprouts to rise.
wind blows Winter door chink thru,
exhale the smell of popcorn tasty to chew.
looking out of the windowframe tight
and rain... people crave for a bit of sunlight.
I long for my motherland myriad miles away
the lofty Ca Tang Mountain imposing display,
quiet Thu Bon River's flow provides for tillage,
a day by ferry-boat to reach my Mom's village.
still delay my promise to get back to those of old,
not to see my concurrent generation of fold.
I use bitter alcohol over nostalgia to mourn
back home my peers lump it feeling forlorn.
Translation by THANH-THANH