Poetry and wind and…
by Phan Hoang
Always looking for poetry, don’t know where poetry comes from
looking for the wind, don’t know where the wind comes from
looking for and looking for
The wind is likely poetry and poetry is likely the wind
looking for and looking for,
wind is not likely poetry and poetry is not likely the wind
looking for and looking for
The poetic bird in me flying away from the clouds of fate,
The poetic wind in me flying away from the horizons of desire,
Haven’t touched nowhere
Remember badly the human voice.
Sometimes in the wind I hear the rosy earth smiling childhood,
Sometimes in poetry I hear the earth writhing with exhausted tears
falling
falling
falling…
Always looking for poetry, don’t know where poetry comes from
looking for the wind, don’t know where the wind comes from
looking for and looking for
The wind is likely poetry and Poetry is likely the wind
in my deep breath
in my warm veins
The house is real but doesn’t seem real
the house that circulates the wise smile of the past
The house predicting the cry of hope for the future.
The wind is likely poetry and Poetry is likely the wind
in the depths of my spirit
in the source of my creative inspiration
the source is real, but it’s not real
The natural originating to overcome the arduous program of fate
The fierce roots creating the heroic figure of the country
The source of dreams being on the wings of a dragon
Mother’s hard breath
by Phan Hoang
Drowsily at night the sound of mother’s hard breath
The sound of the stork disintegrating for hundreds of years of rain and shine
the sound of sad and happy precipitation, the river overflowing to the sea
Throwing away the burden of wander in vain
flying back to the childhood home, monologue with spring wind, memories
like a wild cow coming back to breathe the familiar smell of the barn
bowing to apologize with deep respect
night and night guarding the sound of mother’s hard breath
heavy heart on the snowy mountain, painful thoughts
in the garden, insects sang diligently
welcomed the sprouts rising from the ground
the wind whispered in its warmth
tears silently cut into the heart of the night
falling with each breath, mother predicted
the world’s biggest and painful storm smoldering
wished my wind like a new sprout stirred the ground
and mother’s body was a garden of youth, warm and wild
Children’s song against the wind
by Phan Hoang
Without wind, there is no water
Without water, there is no river
without river, there is no rice field
without rice field, there is no farm
without farm, there is no rice
Without rice, there is no me!
– I’m back with rice
The rice returns to the farm
The farm returns to the field
The field returns to the river
The river returns to water
The water returns to the wind
The wind returns to me!
Buffalo’s back sinks seven floats three
Children’s song against the wind drifting out… of life
miss home and games
the echoing old river, the laughter of buffalo’s back
the innocent children’s river, the hard rain and sun
connecting loves by children’s song!
Spring Bud
by Phan Hoang
Every smile of her child
a Spring Bud
from the blood of mother and father, bloomed blue
ignited the hope
dispelled the cold winter
dreamed the hope star
spread hope to the horizons
Every Spring Bud
sparkling smile
dawn child lips
mountains can be fake
river can be fake
sea of life can also be hypocritical
Is Spring Bud always green and impermanent?