By Nguyen Giac Phan Tan Hai
Obeying your words, my steps
cross the shore to guide all beings.
Mist softens this fleeting world—
the road is far, yet the heart stays near.
Looking into the mirror, I suddenly see
my hair has turned white as dew.
Each day I breathe in quietness,
chilled by the winds of impermanence.
Opening the sutra, reading word by word,
I feel the Truc Lam forest tremble.
Breathing in, the Thien Mu bell
resonates through my whole body.
A single flower is lifted—
someone holds it, yet no one holds;
someone sees it, yet no one sees;
there is only the flower appearing.
By Phan Tan Hai
Did anyone hear, on unfamiliar streets,
sunlight falling and breaking into desolate shards?
He climbed a hill to watch the starfruit tree
burst into bloom and wept into the dusk.
A horse cried out from two thousand years ago,
breathing impermanence into the soul of poetry.
He roused the Bodhi-mind from slumber—
night-blooming flowers opened toward the ten directions.
I meandered through the muddy Mekong
Searched in sultry sexy Saigon
Ravished in the Cat Thien Rain forest
Yet I still could not find you
I found myself haunted in Hong Kong
Caught up in the cacophony of China
Trailed my way thoughts to Taiwan
And still I could not find you
I jostled and jaunted through Japan
Hoping Kyoto would hold my Karma
It only got me caught up in Korea
And still I could not find you
So I backtracked and got tormented in Thailand
Which had me pondering Penang
Hoping you would be caught in Kuala Lampur
Yet still I could not find you
I searched for you in the East
Hoping to calm my inner beast
Believing my inner mind to be true
That maybe one day - I'll find you...
Last night awakened with thoughts of him
How long has it has been, only
Yesterday …
First one I ever saw laid out
I sixteen, he nineteen, Viet Nam
Airborne …
Purple complexion seeping through under glass
I gaze on doll-like hair
Broomcorn …
His uniform perfect, tie straight
Blouse olive, at attention
Airborne …
No one else at the funeral home
Me and a girl friend too early for death
Careworn …
Dead before he hit the ground
Cut down by ground-fire first jump no longer
airborne ...
So many years now, forty-two,
awakened with thoughts of him,
Wind-borne …
Still see his body rigid attention
rumor wire for arm, died before his time
Soilborne …
Didn’t know him well, would he
still be here if not
Airborne …
Would we have smoked and talked about
women if he would be
reborn …
And what of Thua Thien, what now
monument, blood of airborne boys?
Golf course …
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