original poem in Vietnamese, Le^. Bie^?n
translated by Nguyen Quoc Vinh
The sea holds in its caress
an unending epic, mixed with the doleful sound of seagulls on their spread wings
sweeping through the last patch of scattered light.
In long strides
on the sand
-- human footprints continually effaced by waves upon waves --
I walk on, as if in a dreamy trance.
Tonight will be a night of glory!
My friends' skills at make-up will make me shed my hull.
With a bit of cream smooth upon my countenance,
With exotic colors harmonious over my eyes,
With a touch of powder on my cheeks, a dash of rouge on my lips,
With clothing flashy in its garishness,
With a long stream of hair caressing my shoulders,
I will exude such radiance as a butterfly emerging from its cocoon,
and such aristocratic elegance as a swan sporting jade-white wings.
Tonight,
amidst a soiree ball sparkling with lights, reverberating with music
I will...
take the dainty steps of a damsel
across the wide threshold, through rows of tables,
before countless yearning eyes, over hushed admiration and gossip.
I will show a most radiant smile and throw myself to dance
the rhythms sometimes slow, sometimes fast, of a sinuous tango.
Packed tight around me are faces some familiar, some unfamiliar,
Packed tight around me are couples
Some young, some old.
Tonight will be a night of glory.
I will sit silent like a stone statue, listening quietly to a sad song
and chuckle to myself upon having discovered
someone singing praise to my unique, extraordinary comportment.
To myself I call my name, my name (?)
and philosophize,
"Life is a string of dramas."
Tonight will be a night of glory?
I will take mental note of the loves in my life
and add them up to a distasteful zero.
I will remember those people I have loved
in silence, in desperation,
in bitterness, in disgrace,
those times I have made a fist in protest
against a hallowed force that toys with misadventure.
"O my soul, after nights of anguish,
please take leave of my body -- in utter disregard for heaven or hell."
The sea continues in its caress
of an unending epic,
mixed with the murmurs of my weary heart.
A drop of sea water hangs over the corner of my eye,
a twitch of the trembling lips...
Tonight,
when the rouge and powder will have gone smeared
what will I have left...
except the body of a boy?!
May 1984
thai ta
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