Thứ Bảy, 2 tháng 7, 2016
life as ranging rope by the phong ( uplifting poems / the phong -- dai nam van hien books, saigon 1974)
life as ranging rope/
uplifting poems by the phong/ -2-
dai nam van hien books, saigon 1974
life as ranging rope
by the phong
1
Eighteen years of age
ample breasts,
nice make up
wearing jeans,
looking at the rain outside
Night was torn apart by the sad
voice singing
Midnight.
Open the door,
looking at the rain now falling thicker
Sure as hell
she could kill men with her charming smile
Bur the seldom smiled to those round her
Her step-father was not Daddy
and was rather badly treated at that
Her mother brought sorrow to her first children
by marrying a second husband
Her own son
a kid as strong an athlete
and as manly as an American movie actor
He screamed
" You pay for your crime I tell you"
Night after life you sleep with my mother
When I am a man I will strike you for sure
I'll put a stop to your dishonoring my family's name
No, no
You should not put on airs, telling us do to this or that.
My sister no longer a teenager
she can sing if she likes to
And she can sleep with anyone she damn pleases
See me, face me, silly old man
You are fifty and you practice gym
you like good food, good drink, good clothes
You like fun.
Do you still love life that much?
You're no moralist,
o silly old man
You hate me
brand me as a hoodlum
because I'm no son of yours.
" Midnight ...
I awoke and heard the firful cries of anguish".
2
The morning was misty
the lamp was still burning
A girl's sigh saddened the heart of any sensible boy
Have a look at her in the mirror:
she was ravishing
there is no doubt about that
He lips rouged
but not to see her brother off foe soldiering
Mind you
it was not bullets that he would fire
but it was anger
mother could not help her tears
Sister looked at him as if he was lover
" I woke up in the middle of the night, hearing sobs ..."
3
The daughter told everybody the made clothes
She was off very early morning
and was not back until late night
What the hell did she really do,
nobody had any clue
But who really cared!
Who really cared!
Thanks to her,
her little sisters had candies to eat
Thanks to her,
they had nice clothes to wear
and they had nice words to say about her,
they were very fond of her
We the neighbors believed what we were told;
We were not fussy people
"At night we heard merry singing and sobbing as well"
4
One morning
she was escorted home by two cops
with he handcuffs on her wrists
How pitiful she looked!
She could only weep to plead for mercy
There was conclusive evidence
she was caught sleeping naked with a foreigner in a hotel
Ah,
what a shabby singer she was
By no stretch of the imagination could she be taken as a tailor
As for me
I believed her self- defense supremely convincing
I judged her and found her innocent
I passed the verdict as a poet
I got not money at all
so it was not a professional occupation
I was concerned to see deeply into human motivation
The fake singe's mother cried loudest of all.
"That night
it was surprising quiet
no singing, no sobbing
nothing ..."
5
I could not hear the funeral march beating
As coffins passed through the road in front of my house
Day after day without relatives following the coffin
Who had died?
How dis he live?
Could a life be so short and sad
Well,
I knew those who had paid the price of patriotism
seeing the flag-wrapped coffins
Alas,
it broke my heart that those wives forgot you
not long after that
I knew they wanted to get married again
leaving your children uncared for
I knew why these unfaithful women hated dogs like hell
Night and day were indistinguishable,
the singer's voice and weeping already died down ...
Then one sad evening I raised my voice to sing for myself
Evoking the sad image of two love beings,
her and myself, on the hill of pines
The little girl from the house next door
started eating candies bought with cash
Seeing her wearing a morning band I asked her about it
Sadly she told me his brother had been killed in a battle
when I asked about her sister
she shook his head
" No, no I have no sister
my sister was not a whore"
I apologized as she broke in tears
Night and day are alike
life is but a hanging rope
They are still living
still living ...
there is not much sound and fury ...
THEPHONG
Saigon, July 16, 1963
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