Tiếng Anh

to Valentina Serova

You used to say to me "I love you!",
But that was through your teeth, at night,
The truth was "I put up with you".
- You almost said it in the light.

I could believe your lips in darkness,
The wicked magic of your bed,
But though the words you spoke were honest,
I did not credit what you said.

I knew you - you were not a liar;
You would have liked to be in love.
Only at night could you deceive me,
When body drives the soul above.

But sober morning found you different.
Your mind was now the guiding force;
And when I asked you if you loved me,
I think you once replied "Of course".

Then sudden war, the station platform,
Nowhere to kiss and hold you tight,
My seat in the suburban carriage
To take me far into the night;

An evening without hope of loving;
No warmth, no happiness, no bliss;
And like a helpless cry of anguish,
Upon my sleeve, a tasted kiss.

And so that I should know the difference
From those old drunken words at night,
You suddenly said to me "I love you!"
Your lips were almost calm and right!

That you could be as you were that evening,
Seemed, till that evening, past belief!
"I love you! Love you!" Night; the station;
Your little hands so cold with grief...

Wait for me
to Valentina Serova

Wait for me, and I'll come back!
Wait with all you've got!
Wait, when dreary yellow rains
Tell you, you should not.
Wait when snow is falling fast,
Wait when summer's hot,
Wait when yesterdays are past,
Others are forgot.
Wait, when from that far-off place,
Letters don't arrive.
Wait, when those with whom you wait
Doubt if I'm alive.

Wait for me, and I'll come back!
Wait in patience yet
When they tell you off by heart
That you should forget.
Even when my dearest ones
Say that I am lost,
Even when my friends give up,
Sit and count the cost,
Drink a glass of bitter wine
To the fallen friend -
Wait! And do not drink with them!
Wait until the end!

Wait for me and I'll come back,
Dodging every fate!
"What a bit of luck!" they'll say,
Those that would not  wait.
They will never understand
How amidst the strife,
By your waiting for me, dear,
You had saved my life.
Only you and I will know
How you got me through.
Simply - you knew how to wait -
No one else but you.

Think of Others

While making breakfast, think of others
[don't forget the pigeons' feed]

While fighting your wars, think of others
[don't forget those who want peace]

While paying your water bill, think of others
[those who are drinking the clouds]

While walking home, think of others
[don't forget the people of the tents]

While sleeping and counting planets, think of others
[there are those who don't have a place to sleep]

While liberating yourself with metaphors, think of others
[those who lost the right to speak]

While thinking of the distant others, think of yourself
[say: I wish I were a candle in the dark]

Sonnet LXXIX

Tie your heart at night to mine, love,
and both will defeat the darkness
like twin drums beating in the forest
against the heavy wall of wet leaves.

Night crossing: black coal of dream
that cuts the thread of earthly orbs
with the punctuality of a headlong train
that pulls cold stone and shadow endlessly.

Love, because of it, tie me to a purer movement,
to the grip on life that beats in your breast,
with the wings of a submerged swan,

So that our dream might reply
to the sky’s questioning stars
with one key, one door closed to shadow.

Your hands


When your hands leap
towards mine, love,
what do they bring me in flight?
Why did they stop
at my lips, so suddenly,
why do I know them,
as if once before,
I have touched them,
as if, before being,
they travelled
my forehead, my waist?

Their smoothness came
winging through time,
over the sea and the smoke,
over the Spring,
and when you laid
your hands on my chest
I knew those wings
of the gold doves,
I knew that clay,
and that colour of grain.
The years of my life
have been roadways of searching,
a climbing of stairs,
a crossing of reefs.
Trains hurled me onwards
waters recalled me,
on the surface of grapes
it seemed that I touched you.
Wood, of a sudden,
made contact with you,
the almond-tree summoned
your hidden smoothness,
until both your hands
closed on my chest,
like a pair of wings
ending their flight.

Night bird

I woke from a dream
where I was pursued by a bier
round and round a zelkova tree.
Suddenly I heard a bird sing.
Wake up now, mistreated wretch.
Open your lips, downtrodden wretch.
Flying carefully through a lowering sky
with not a spare inch for so many resentful ghosts,
that night bird sobs so sadly.
One boy sobs sadly, too, pitifully
clinging to the back of the bier.

On a Winter's Night

We're met in the backroom of the co-op mill
playing cards for a dish of muk;
tomorrow's market-day. Boisterous merchants
shake off the snow in the inn's front yard.
Fields and hills shine newly white, the falling snow
comes swirling thickly down.
People are talking about the price of rice and fertilizers,
and about the local magistrate's daughter, a teacher.
Hey, it seem's Puni, up in Seoul working as a maid,
is going to have a baby. Well, what shall we do?
Shall we get drunk? The bar-girl smells
of cheap powder, but still, shall we have a sniff?
We're the only ones who know our sorrows.
Shall we try raising fowls this year?
Winter nights are long, we eat muk,
down drinks, argue over the water rates,
sing to the bar-girl's chop-stick beat,
and as we cross the barley-field to give a hard time
to the newly-wed man at the barber's shop,
look at that : the world's all white. Come on snow, drift high,
high as the roof, bury us deep.
Shall we send a love-letter
to those girls behind the siren tower hiding
wrapped in their skirts? We're
the only ones who know our troubles.
Shall we try fattening pigs this year?

Going home in the evening

We gave up any thought of flying long ago

These days we don't even try to run
we dislike walking so we try to ride
(We mostly travel about by bus or subway)
Once on board we all try to get a seat
Once seated we lean back snoozing
Not that we are tired
but every time money-making is over
our heads become atrophied
scales sprout all over our bodies
Our blood has grown cold
But still with half-open eyes
our practised feet take us home

We return every evening to our homes
like reptiles returning to their swamp

The land of mists

In the land of mists
always shrouded in mist
nothing ever happens
And if something happens
nothing can be seen
because of the mist
for if you live in mist
you get accustomed to mist
so you do not try to see
Therefore in the land of mists
you should not try to see
you have to hear things
for if you do not hear you cannot live
so ears keep growing bigger
People like rabbits
with ears of white mist
live in the land of mists

Echo

To mountains at dusk:
What are you?

What are you are you...