Wednesday, 27 April 2016

Poems by Mai Van


Mai Văn Phấn
Translated from Vietnamese by Nhat-Lang Le
Edited by Susan Blanshard





Spreads everywhere
It’s time
For me to go home




I drink my cup of water
Yet do not know the name of the bird
That just flew away





Lands upon
The sunlight
The garden full of thorns




Gets lost and flies into my room
I turn out the lights
Still it’s bright outside






In spring
Bathe
Even in places without water




Perching on the wires
Looking from afar
Like knots




A bee flies across my door
Changing its socks quickly
And hits the road again




Short calls
Switching branches constantly
Perhaps its nest is near




Lands in the yard
Looking at me
We know each other in our past lives




Perching on the same branch
Calling to each other
Until their voices go hoarse




Can sow
Seeds
Into stones




This morning
Regrettably
I don’t understand it all





It gets more beautiful as I paint it
Suddenly I am afraid
It is turning into a real horse




Its crane painting
When folded
Resembles a heap of ground meat




Not picking them
I watch the red-whiskered bulbul
Nibble a little while singing




An orchid blossom
Emits its scent
To a bush of oxalis




My hair still wet
I lean onto a calla lily
To listen to April’s melody




I look at the sun
Nearing a rainbow
Then vanishing





After it is washed
Water condenses
Into large drops




Succulent and bright red
I can’t decide
Whether to bite from inside or outside




One bite at a time
As sunlight
Reflects bright red on the ceiling




Afterwards
Both the potato and the knife
Are pretty




Until
Tea is one way
I another




A cat misses its prey
The blade of an axe
Gets stuck in a log





A fish
Swims
Close to where I sit




Swarming at sunset
In pairs
They fly through my dream




No more rattling please
On the sky
Stars have sprouted thickly

No comments:

Post a Comment