Fantasy Land

Poet Thach Quy. Photo: Hai Vuong

Yes, it means no mistake

There is no such thing as the most correct thing.

The eye loves the moon and honey disc

Stomach only likes rice paper

Buddhist poet in prison

Tile house, bamboo house, wooden house

Any house like ours

Built with joy, anger, love and hate!

Don't mind the evil birds!

Why sad goose feathers human blood

Why enjoy this fleeting life?

Drizzle makes the grass grow green again

Missing and waiting for each other turned to stone

I thought that was it.

Which stone is left alone?

One day as pale as lime!

Finally I'm left alone

I was also a statue

At the end of the afternoon, I'm alone.

Journey to the land of fantasy./.