Thứ Năm, 13 tháng 5, 2021

DEATH CONSCIOUNESS , a poem by The Phong -- source: Virgil Gheorghiu Blog ( Thứ năm, 16 tháng 6, 2016)

 

THỨ NĂM, 16 THÁNG 6, 2016

uplipting poems by thê phong ( dai nam van hien books, south vietnam 1974/  --   this edition, jan.2011-hcm city)

uplipting poems/ thê phong
dai nam van hien books, saogon 1974
this edition, jan.2011/hcm city





                                                                asian morning western music/
                                            poems by thephong




                                                   Death Consciouness



                   When the big dragonfly in flight over the May paddock
                   In two eyes engaged in hunting a certain smaller dragonfly for                       food;
              The little kid quit school to stroll along the edge of the                                 paddock,
              Then stopped,
                     and used a striker with sticky breadfruit resin to catch
                                        the dragonfly turned hunter
              But this insect was wiser
                      than the kid allowed it to be:
                             it quickly moved elsewhere
              The kid did not give in,
                         he took the small dragonfly as bait
               Which enjoyed a measure of freedom
                         at the end of the string in the hand of the kid
               The dragonfly turned hunter was not good enough
                        to avoid the string
              It alighted on the victim,
                        then lifted it up to its mouth
              the kid spun back the string
                         took the dragonfly by its tail
              he burst out laughing
                    " Here you are, say goodbye to your freedom"
              I spent the whole morning
                     to search for the truthful meaning of life
               Looking at the germinating seeds washed
                      in by rain last night
               This morning
                      I met the kid who quit shool for a stroll
               The sun was high
                       near the red flower thicket
                              he dug the earth to bury the insect
                Its is no longer in life
                        its body cuts to bits
                Ah!
                Returning to dust,
                       it no longer cared
                             if there was still light in the world
               The little kid used to feel sad
                       when evening came
               He was sick with learning,
                       he scorned to hear the teacher's words anymore
                              he now asked me
               What is the use of all this miserable business
               And tell me
                      "you are old enough
                           why do you waste time with a kid's play
                                why did you borrow my sling
                                  and you hid behind the gourd plant
                                     throwing little stoned at the bees hovering
                                      from flower to flower
                 and tell me
                        you kept the light on all night
                           did you study inside the mosquito net"
                  You had a funny face when another bee stung you
                         you little insect
                              but surely you must be curious
                                    why it stung you go savagely


                       I know the meaning of life already,
                                my boy
                                    it died
                                       and it death taught me courage
                       Death or life really makes very little difference
                       The dragonfly hunter had no choice
                                 but to live on a smaller one
                       It died because of you
                                 and no other fellow insect took
                       to revenge its death
                       It was not the same with ants either
                       I live by myself
                                  I have no worry whatsoever
                       because I do not except anything from anyone
                       We are bees
                       We are ants
                       We are dragonflies


                        We are full of hatred
                                and consciousness of death
                        But let's face it
                                  you are not old enough
                        to grasp why I'm still nursing my deep wound ...

                        THE PHONG
                        Saigon, July 16, 1963

                         
                                              ( p. 47-50 UPLIFTING POEMS )

                      
Thephong 's desk




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