To the Poet Quach Tan
By Phan Tan Hai
His verses steeped in the fragrance of ancient chronicles,
perfumed by mountain winds and forest trees.
He praised the layered rivers and mountains,
the sea spreading wide, temples hidden in clouds.
A tiger lay listening to the monk’s chanting,
guiding wanderers toward realms of peace.
He copied poems for the ages to come—
a realm of agarwood drifting through endless mist.
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