A Letter to Mother

by Tran Dang Khoa

Mother, perhaps in this skirmish
I will fall
Falling normally
Like my countless comrades
So that your thatched roof can be at peace
Beneath the yellow sunlight…

And, perhaps, when you open your eyes at dawn
You will receive a sheet of paper
Like the countless mothers in the village
A thin sheet of paper
That is heavier than thousands of tons of bombs
Raining down upon your old age
Even then, you shouldn’t cry
For I do not die

Please read Kiêu again
So that the house can once again become tranquil
Beneath the shades of a tree on which dusk vaguely settles
Please sit and lean against the door-frame to wait for me
Just like you did in the distant days long past
When I returned home from school each evening
And you will once again hear
The children’s footsteps
As they hug their books and throw their hands over each other’s shoulders
And giggle}
Passing by the window
Passing through the evening
Silently

And night will fall
All over the house
All over the yard
All over the sky…
The night will be warm and smooth as silk
Please don’t close the door
Let the wind enter
The wind will sing inside your house
About the dreams of the cloud-filled sky
And you will unknowingly doze off
To the point where you will not even recognize
That your son has returned
In the cool breath of wind
The breath of wind that has traveled across the Earth
To sing a lullaby to the mothers without their sons…

1979