A collection of poems by a person from Nghe An living far from home.
Selected and introduced by poet and journalist Pham Thuy Vinh.
The following collection of poems is a meeting of three poets from Nghe An province, currently living and writing in three different regions of the country: Poet Vuong Trong (Hanoi), Poet Nguyen Khac Thach (Thua Thien Hue), and Poet Nguyen Hung (Ho Chi Minh City). Located in three different geographical locations, with distinct life experiences and artistic styles, and writing at different stages of their careers, all three poets share a common thread: a deep longing for their homeland, reflections on the anxieties of life, and the genuine emotions of the people of Nghe An.
Wang Zhong
Two-line poem
Black as hair, yet it will eventually turn gray.
No love can last forever, can it?
The river changed course, leaving behind a green lake.
A person who changes their heart for the sake of a cruel and treacherous world.
Singing is when you're happy to play music.
Groaning is when someone is sick and trying to soothe themselves.
My heart beats on the right side of your chest.
When love speaks the truth…
Longhouse
View vertically: hold up the arrow.
Side view: axe blade spreads out.
Step aboard, and you'll become a boat.
The waves of wine need to sway back and forth.
No need for a kitchen anymore.
Warmth in each pair of eyes
Your breasts are ablaze
Use the communal house to make lamps.
The flame and the alcohol
How can I not miss you when we're far apart?
Oh, arrow, oh, hammer!
Oh, sails of the highlands!
Nguyen Khac Thach
Morning Poem
That morning I sat on the porch.
Write me a morning poem.
The sky opens up to a vast expanse.
At dawn, everything begins.
The morning rises from the night.
The sun rises in the morning and sets in the evening.
Love deceives the eyes.
Distance makes us see each other more clearly.
Morning kiss time
Overcoming the hardships of the earth
Tears welled up in silent tears.
Generations have passed down their legacy in the night.
The morning is like your face.
The face of his life is patient.
His life was filled with the haunting darkness.
Dissolve in the morning air.
A river with one bank
There is a river named after you.
The river he named himself
I ask autumn to make a leaf into a boat.
There is a river that flows into oblivion.
Water as clear as tears
Why do I feel like something is missing even though it hasn't happened yet?
There is a river that has only one bank.
The other side of the bank turned away.
The river he could never cross…
Nguyen Hung
Two doors to home
Cua Hoi welcomes the Lam River as it merges with the sea.
Cua Lo beach stretches out its sandy shores, inviting friends from near and far.
The two words "gate" call forth the alluvial soil that rushes in.
For all four seasons, the white sand dunes bloom with flowers.
Day after day I hear my hometown stirring.
People riding the cable car ride the wind out to sea.
The new boulevard brings Vinh city closer to the waves.
The Cua Hoi Bridge stretches far into the horizon.
The old beach is now adorned with new colors.
The streetlights on Binh Minh Street shine all night long.
Wave lovers and those who love the color blue, come together!
My hometown's sea captivates visitors from all over the world.
The old fishing village still retains the scent of salty nets.
The early morning market is still filled with the lively sounds of the countryside.
Song Ngu Island with its tranquil temple
Preserving the spirit of the past amidst the hustle and bustle of modern life.
The small road that once bid us farewell when we left our homeland.
Today, we have the space to welcome our friends back here.
Homeland is not just something we cherish in our hearts.
Our homeland is becoming more beautiful day by day thanks to the hands that have helped us.
Ancient people drew borders with water.
A lifetime dedicated to river and waterway construction.
Looking at Vinh Te Pagoda makes me admire the people of the past even more.
Two centuries, the canal has been there since ancient times.
Flowing through the borderlands, bathed in sun and rain.
Thoại Ngọc Hầu amidst the desolate borderlands.
The soldiers and civilians carried soil day and night.
Thousands of hands have stirred the waters and beautified the riverbanks.
Countless lives have been lost here.
The floodwaters diverge and flow downstream to the sea.
Washing away alum will restore the green color to the fields and gardens.
Boat after boat carries goods all the way to the dock.
The riverside village prospered due to trade.
Ancient people drew borders with water.
A verdant border of the southern land.
Bringing water in is also a way to retain water.
Let peace remain in the village.
Through the years, the old canal still flows.
Through green fields, through countless stretches of homeland
The deceased are gone, but their handprints remain.
Vinh Te will forever retain its verdant beauty.
