For those of us who love writing, whether poetry or prose, it is as much a need as are food and love. Yet who can say that the capacity of balancing the demands of writing and those of love is as innate as breathing? It takes a conscious effort to maintain an equilibrium that is intrinsically precarious, and more often than not something gives. It is in times like this that the disharmony between conflicting interests comes to the fore, and puts the man in a quandary. This poem voices the concern and struggle that the poet/writer goes through to fulfill his goals in life. He cannot live an impoverished life in which his intellectual needs are neglected, nor can he lead a happy existence without the woman he loves. One without the other deprives him of his raison d'être. Yet he knows that the challenge will always remain, regardless of his efforts. Song Viet-Dam Giang's poem tells of this tension in a highly delicate, sympathetic, and romantic way. She peers into the mind of the man and sees a flattering picture of a poet/writer with a passion for both his calling and his love. This is a most unusual poem, replete with suggestions of a sensuous nature, soaring thoughts, love of nature, flirtations, tenderness, and mellifluous feelings. It is highly intriguing for its either systematic or subtle ambiguity, whereby the man and his sweetheart seem to be carrying on a conversation, alternating between roles, and in the process creating an indescribable mélange of feminine seductiveness and masculine attractiveness. Athough the translation generally stays with one persona, and no ambiguity is felt, the Vietnamese original lends itself to equivocation. And it is precisely this fuzzy area that enhances the effect of the poem. Song Viet-Dam Giang seems to have elevated this artifice to a new height of exquisite conceit.

Poetry, Literature and My Sweetheart The question was, "If our love is as passionate as it is in a dream, And you write poems to sing of your dream sweetheart, And are engrossed in learning, Day and night reading and writing, Then let me ask, Do you love books and poetry, or do you love me?" I love you as I have never loved before. I am entranced by you as if drunk from wine's sweet aroma. How can my passion be explained? How can my heart's feelings be defined? If my writing is choice food, And my poetry is tasty dessert, Then you are my cup of sweet-smelling tea. If my professional prose is a resplendent sunset, And my poetry is a refreshing breeze from afar, Then you are my soaring phoenix. If science is mid-summer day's heat, And poetry is the relaxing shade for tired legs, Then you are my wholesome refreshing spring. If books are rich ingredients, And poetry is heaven's essence, Then you sure are my miraculous fire. If after the summer's joy and warmth Come the changing colors of fall, And the frigid cold of winter, Then spring is revival of the flora. Nature passes through the four seasons, Ravishing space in its tight grip; Then our love is Providence-given. My love of poetry, of books and you, With romance in life, need we have Eden? I love poetry, love books, love you, Embrace all for a rich rewarding life. Without poetry and books, life becomes dull; Without you, life is a lifeless wasteland. 13 May 2003

Poésie, Littérature et mon Amour La question fut, "Si notre amour est aussi passionné qu'il l'est dans un rêve Et tu composes des poèmes en honneur de ton amante rêvée, Et tu es par tes études tellement absorbé, Et tu lis et écris nuit et jour, Alors dis-moi, Aimes-tu les livres et les poèmes, ou aimes-tu moi-même?" Je t'aime comme je n'ai jamais aussi bien aimé, Je m'enivre de toi beaucoup plus que du vin parfumé. Comment puis-je expliquer ma passion? Comment puis-je définir pour toi mon amour? Si mes écrits sont des mets délicieux, Et mes poèmes sont du dessert satisfaisant, Alors tu es ma tasse de thé aromatisant. Si mes écrits professionnels sont le soleil couchant glorieux, Et ma poésie est la brise fraîche de loin, Alors tu es mon phénix qui renaît et s'élève. Si la science est l'après-midi d'été accablant, Et la poésie est l'ombre réconfortante, Alors tu es ma source d'eau saine et rafraîchissante. Si les livres sont des ingrédients fertiles, Et la poésie est l'essence des cieux, Alors tu es mon feu miraculeux. Si après l'été joyeux et chaud, Viennent l'automne qui change de couleurs, L'hiver avec son froid de gel, Et le printemps qui fait renaître les arbres, La nature qui passe par toutes les saisons Tour à tour saisit l'espace dans son emprise, Alors notre amour vient de la Providence. Avec ma passion pour la poésie, les livres et toi, Une vie si romanesque a-t-elle besoin d'éden? J'aime la poésie, j'aime les livres et je t'aime, En les réconciliant ma vie en est pleine, Car sans la poésie et les livres, la vie s'appauvrit, Et sans toi, l'existence est dépouillée. 18 Mai 2003