The poet of the text of the Vietnamese poem hidden face flower by Dr Ramesh Chandra Mukhopadhyaya

The present author for the purpose of studying hidden face flower does not believe in any extra textual entity of the poet. The poet Mai Van Phan is one who has composed the poems of hidden face flower. What are the poems in hidden face flower? They are what the poet Mai Van Phan has written

Now let us  hereby seek to describe the poet Mai Van Phan as revealed through the poems. He frankly tells us that he is a humble lake on  which the peak of a mountain is reflected. A true poet always seeks to reflect the nobler thoughts in his write up. He is a gong stick wrapped up in shirt to give a tongue or sound of the bell to the  groans of man. He digs the soil of the collective mind to unearth the gems and images of the past. The poet is like the moon who spreads the fragrance to announce the coming of the Sun or the flower of flowers.He announces the coming of a brave new world. Storms might take place. But it will not hurt the flower the poet assures us Small things of Nature the twitter of a bird an arousing fragrance  make the poet  pray for the new leaves to comeThe rishi of the Vedas chanted in ecstasy---The wind is honey  honey oozes from the seas  every dust of the earth is honey.With Mai Van Phan the wind wherever it blows from carries the sweet essence of the lotus flower.This is archetypal. The poet unlike others seeks to gather moonlight.If they are scattered what else remains for him to gather. This reminds us of an Indian sage of a woman named Maitreyee who said that what would she do with things that do not give  nectar. The poet is the type of the seer whose roots are extruded aiming at the sky. This is also archetypal. It reminds of the Bhagavadgita a Hindu scripture that describes the world as an inverted tree with its roots in the heaven. We must take our sustenance from the heaven. The poet reminds of Shakespeare who was wont to find books in running brooks and sermons in stone. The poet finds a colony of bats in a cage of light. And mark you it is light in darkness. A wonderful imagery.Does the poet espy angels or liberated souls  in the bats? Poetry and dream are similar . But poetry has a medium dream has none. And in any dream whatever the dreamer must be present in some form or other.Is not the poet the self of the bird that sips some bright clouds.The poet is a visionary . He finds a flame invisible to the mundane eye that bakes the world of phenomenon. That is why the world is never static and stable perhaps. The poet is a seeker of truth. He asks—Who bakes in the trunk of a tree by another flame? Does the poet espy a saint in red skirt or shirt circumambulating the fire that lurks behind the show of things? His or her scarf is a Christmas flower flowing ….permeating …radiating splashing…Does the poet espy Jesus Christ in a never seen before attire? Does the poet  read the votaries of fire in the flowers of Nature?  We have already referred to the mountain that has been reflected on the heart of the poet. The poet seeks the road to reach the top of the mountain..And there is fragrance spread all over his being. Seeking the source of the fragrance the poet reaches a certain stony slope .Going up the slope the poet can find the sky or nothingness which has no trace of clouds or the sorrows of existence.Going higher up from empyrean heights the poet finds the earth as beautiful and as delicate as a dewdrop. This reminds of Lord Buddha who posited that human life is full of suffering. Our world is a vale of tears. We must follow our poet and climb up the mountain The poet is as humble as grass along a walkway. Being as humble as a blade of grass the poet drinks a full glass of sunlight.The poets beloved is the indeterminate that breathes in a bush or that which bakes with another flame in the tree.The blue sky symbolic of the nothingness seems to chisel the silhouette that hides the flaming truth. While the poet walks side by side with his beloved the flame of poetic imagination  the bole of a tree is lit up into a galaxy. A fresh creation myth indeed. Thus the more we read the poems of the hidden face flower the more we are  acquainted with fresh aspects of the poet that are time and again.

But look at the poem----A n evening  A rat and I Rush across a road. The poet Mai Van Phan does not think that a man is superior to a rat. The poet as well as a rat rush across a road. Here is a poet and man  with whom the meanest living being that breathes, the meanest worm or an insect that breathes can give thoughts too deep for tears