Oh Please, Not To Fade So Fast Into the Afternoon
I.
Oh please, not to fade so fast into the afternoon
The one that is scattering in a goldenly swooning loneliness
The one that is shattering at a purply time of faintness
And the one whose wind is playing with so many violins
Because the wind will flow away a sky of ending summer
Blending mistily the fragrances of rice straw and areca nut
And you will see a piece of very strange sky
Falling its colorless sunlight onto your garden
Because colors had a fine crop of a reunion the previous day
And are gone with traces of flying birds the later day
Words turn into rocks and miss the flapping waves
And I transform into a seat where you sit on
Because the seat where you sit is suitable for a dream
That won’t gray out the leaves voicing the greetings
That won’t see the end of folk songs whispering
And that won’t cease the surprise of whys and whys
II.
Oh please, not to fade so fast into the afternoon
The one that is scattering on greenly swooning soul of moss
The one that is falling on whitely faint shadows of tombs
And the one that is hammering the nails on a scream
Because that scream echoes so deeply and so sharply
Becoming deep tone heartbeats humming in my chest
And you will hear over a very slim trail
A song of leaf-made trumpet from far far away
Because the ancient spring coyly ran dry under the previous sky
And the old stream is squeezing its skin under the later sky
Water pales its face, cloud thickens grayly
And I become a pale homeless guy
The one homeless guy who’s addicted to being a ghost
Who gazes endlessly at the slanting afternoon shadows
Who looks left and right, high and low at soaring dreams
And who suddenly sees the time is perfumed with flowers of blood . . .
III.
Oh please, not to fade so fast into the afternoon
The one that is scattering with so much faintness of roses
The one that is flying with sunny laurel wreaths
And the one that is warming the sounding rocks on Hon Kem
Because the rocks sing from that mountaintop
Softly echo alongside the wings of the birds
Become the round notes for you to pick up
And blend the beads of youth into your heart
For now, I search and see the previous day’s seat is left vacant
And the later day’s voice is also bygone
Yeah it is true that we are dying
We are gnawing and tiredly chewing the silly madness
Oh silly madness, just watch the heaven and earth
where the cycles of births revolve around the faintness
Where I transform into a small mosquito
And hover around you and smile naively...
April 2011
Translated into English by Phan Tan Hai
Original poem titled "Xin d?ng v?i tan vào bu?i chi?u" - written in Vietnamese by Nguyen Luong Vy.
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