The Desolate Separation
by Tran Nhuan Minh
Nothing’s sadder than no longer having friends
Friends will live with me even when I’ve left this world
Many good friends will eventually die before me
Having no friend is akin to living an orphan’s life
Where’s the “bag of wisdom”? How can I learn if
The friends whom I meet and deem good turn out to be bad?
The moment I love and trust them is when I’m easily fooled
Even when my hair’s turned gray, I’m still very much naive…
Perhaps I should compose poetry? Throwing myself into
the battlefield with swords by letters formed
At times, I’m caught in the middle when my friends fight
But the wounds will heal. Death has yet to come
Because I’ve yet to start composing my last poem…
It’s Impossible…
by Tran Nhuan Minh
It’s possible that in a few years… I’ll not know
in what direction I’ll go
Birds still fly on the river, clouds and water are still blue
Oh my children, and grand children, you’re
just grown up and are so beautiful
At that time, who can know where I’ve been…
Having no wings to fly up like birds
and to tell the truth, I’m not very wise
I’m very unwise, but it simply cannot be different
Oh sons, I hope that when comes the time
of your grand children, the Truth will be crowned
There will no longer be anyone needing
wings to flow to heaven
When successful in whatever field
You’ll have many true enemies,
And many false friends
Although standing in the shadows of the trees,
you’ll not break the branches, or pluck the leaves
Such is life, be patient as you rise, leaving behind
a kind heart
Believing in one’s own strength, one will
certainly be successful
I’ve vaguely heard, so far away the sad sound
of the thousands leagues Fall
So far away and high up, are the sounds of stars
flickeringly inviting…
The key of the house, I leave it here, the pages
of 60 years of verses, I leave them there
It’s possible…when you come, I will have flown away…
One Needs A Sound Of Bell…
by Tran Nhuan Minh
The perfidious eye glares
Words and their meanings are deceitful
The attractiveness of sins
Inebriated people like alcohol ferment…
One needs a sound of bell
Stricken at midnight!
The tree trunks with roots grown upside down turning into a forest
Fragrant ripe yellow fruits that are full of poison
To what an extent the way snakes crawled
in their holes was unfathomable…
One needs a sound of bell
Stricken at midnight!
When going away one has stumbled
When going back one goes astray
And being too proud means
one is committing suicide…
One needs a sound of bell
Stricken at midnight
The Deserted Land
by Tran Nhuan Minh
Many people brought bluish mysteries
Hiding them under wild grass, and a few whitish reeds
Not a few wrong things, and also not a few crimes
They have done throughout their lives,
And only they themselves know about that…
The glories… people have welcomed and received
Many more than things that really exist
Have pity… amidst the stormy sea of life
They chose the waves to flow with…
to obtain their fate…
Such great mysteries still live on, under the green
wild grass
Although white bones have rotten in the dark earth
Only the reed lightly trembled in the dim moon and
the blowing wind
Wanting to say something… that seems like existing
while it doesn’t exist…