Poems by Bach Diep from Vietnam

 

Poems by Bach Diep from Vietnam

 

Her brief biography

Homeland: Le Thuy, QuangBinh

Now live in Hue city

Published works:

Lam Dance - Literature Publishing House 2012

Podocarpusmacrophyllus - Literature Publishing House 2014

Biota orientaliss season – Vietnam Writers’ Association Publishing House 2020

Her poems have been published in Van Nghe Newspaper, Military Arts Magazine, Song Huong Magazine, Writing & Reading, Writers & works of other newspapers and publications...

Literary Prize: Song Huong magazine's fine poetry award 2012

 

Her poems:

The village

I remembered
The first time I went to the South
The ship's wind blew my hair
towards the hills
I cried every time
Even everytime I went to the North

I remembered the village on the street balcony
Deciduous seasons
The rains called back the silence
Why were we so far
The rain shined on the rails

I remembered the first time you kissed me
The stars twinkled like the village water pond
Then you did not wait for me on the platform anymore
The hills slided away from the window

Keep the blue shirt
My mother told me to go back to the village
Pick up what I’ve lost
Barefoot I climbed over the poplar trees
The house in the chest had a window
It was the opening Spring field

The boueamacrophylla tree

When I opened the branches
A childish sky in grassy color
Like an upside down bird nest
And the singing bird somewhere
In the chest of the village

When I got spanked or waited for the meal
Under the little thorns I laid quietly
No one known where to find me
A soldier cycled through the village

Soldiers on the road crossed through the forest gate
Left a few green parachutes under the boueamacrophylla tree
We accepted as gifts
As the promise of peace nearby
Then they left
Lost in middle of the night moon

They disappeared in the forest sky in the West
My aunt cried every night
Boueamacrophylla tree heard the vows and called a person named Minh
A legion of green parachutes backpacks

We grew up under the birdnests
Boueamacrophylla bore ripe fruit in several seasons
My aunt was in white hair
Like the parachutes dried on the branches of boueamacrophylla tree
Afternoon and afternoon again
No one biked passing by...

There were many things that cannot be kept
There were many things that cannot be forgotten

Then one day
We already known how to whistle
Flowers and grass opened in the garden

Bird nests opened
A dome of heaven
Peace
Dark green

Don't sing when climbing up the hill

Children
Draw the summer sleep
In the wind hut
Afternoon the chests breathe hurriedly
You are here

Touching each other to touch the night
The sound of soft grass
The hills that the stars all know
My sad tree root
Don't sing when climbing up the hill
The sunshine will take you away

Not the way home
The stars are sucking in the darkness
The forest will be fallen and the day will be closed
The sadness flowing through
A rebellious dream
From the enduring prayers every night
We are alone in the forest of our own lives

We are alone in our embraces...
It's just the wind, it's just the wind
Don't sing when climbing up the hill
White-haired children
and summer sleep
opening...

My older sister and I and the village

We were like wild houttuyniacordata flowers
On the hillside to catch the morning wind
Breasts were like 14th lunar moon
Laughters were sky well blue

The older sister and I carried water from the lotus pond
The golden sun broke into pieces
Picked up the sound of birds, jubilant leaves
The village roads were cheerful in the mornings

In the hammock knitted by the grandmother, the older sister lulled me
Lulled through one wing of the house
Lulled back to the ripe cornfield
The whole village was full of praised singing

The sky was wet in rain water
Gardens was sad treasures
Only the ants known clearly from the areca hole
The wind, the fence was tearing

The smell of dry cow dung, the smell of straw was warm
Let me feel less lonely when realized myself growing up
Keeping the blanket of crops on windy nights
Listening to the village sound through the sparse leaves.



Dewdrops


Sometimes the dark and bitter painful words
uttered from the closed lips
from the installed prides
I was eager instead of a long kiss
instead of the whispers that are over

On the chair looking out the window
your shadow was still there
a couple of times
like clouds
like clouds like dewdrops like reality like dream
you were my fiction love
were the ironic sloppiness of fate

I started this story one April night
his voice melts with the brown soil with the murmur of fermented fruits patiently in the garden
don't wake me up
I always lost sleep because of the obsession to miss you
the rain was here
It's wet everywhere

I want to tell you the story of the dewdrops
the dance of tears
billion years waiting for the sun
to die in a happy dream

Nothing to regret
even though
the punishment is the distance of time or solitude that my eyes aiming to
the god and saint do not stay here but the religious ceremony still takes place after the praying bell at five o'clock in the afternoon
like a madness
no nonsense

Please wake me up
when you come back
in the sun field
dead dewdrops
in touching
into the disappear.


The thing that cannot speak out

You have known
When she made apple pies
The kitchen smelled fragrance
The rose rooftop and rosmarinusofficinalis in four seasons

You have known
Sometimes she laughed out loud among the female friends
Every weekend morning the living room was full of clothes
The sun rose towards her fence

Everyone known
The street she passed by the banks of the fragrant river
The green sunshine was in four seasons
Chirping birds, flapping their wings

Everyone known
The pictures, she smiled so pretty
Rarely she cried
People said
Why she cried...
When the universe was sleeping

She sought for the only key
Opened the secret room
Walked slowly in the dark
Tears due to the sleepless
Tears due to the waiting
One thing
Silently cannot speak out

Like a branch of wild houttuyniacordata
Waiting for the moon.

The seasonal change

When the bird flock flying away
The winter train has just got to the downhill
A moment of gentle oblivion
Season passing the porch
I bet with you
There's nothing gentler than that
One day I stood in the middle of space
Above is the dark blue sky
Looking at the passing roads in the peaceful silence
Stop
I stop here.
Why does the leaning shadow suddenly hurt me
There was a storm in the sea that day
You said that afraid of the wave taking me away
You said that did not seek anymore
The pain was very long
And the rain was never stopped.

This afternoon
The hibernating bird flock flapping their wings back
Lifting the face in front of a pure mirror
Thanks for the forgotten moment
I know
Tomorrow the sky will be blue.


Don’t cry when setting a firewood

the winter opens the boxes
a row of lighting tree
a wooden door
she pulls the curtain
releasing the wind

resounding Christmas song
charming hip-hop style
she is lying curled
looks like a sunbathing cat
downing like an echo
crossing silently a name

the cross, the neck and the clavicle
so reasonable
time challenge
stretching the hand tendons
whitening a few more hairs
but no one will see her crying
when setting a firewood

layers of sinful dust
confessing the blue porcelain color on the cupboard
she hears the sutras rising from the poetric pages
falling on the bed full of feathers
baby pillows
the smell of pies and the sound of rattles

she is reasonable
or defies the time
suspending
bell voice
on high heels

they
are the men who don't know
what to do infront of the silence of the bell


The fear

Many ways to the church
I found you when crossing the winter
The street was like a cake
sprinkled full of cream and sugar
The square by the bell tower
like brush strokes.
The color was so vague
the day you were silent
dense and empty
like at night
suffocating the breath
even a single word
going out
the sadness
entering
but I was waiting for
I needed to hear your voice.
I believed
the grass on the forest edge would be green
the ice cracked on the lake

God would arrange the chairs
on the Square
and I did not have to take a detour
when you were there.
I did not have to hang around in front of the church
took every sip of air through the lips
cold and hot
sweet and bitter
every taste had you
like the way missed you
very choking.
You!
The fate had arranged and I can't move everything out of its place
I endured all limits
as if
the time to remove a noose from the neck
to breathe.
Winter streets with pine leaves and clouds and dust
The square with faith layers
I had to be alone
Running through the fear field.


The faded season

And then the kids would grow up
She did not have to button them up every morning
A kid comes home for lunch, another is late at evening
Busy
Sometimes it was a privilege

Empty sleeps at nights
Worried by soft blankets
Listened to each fading drop with cold
More than any salon light or spotlight
She rehibilitated the warm for the house
There was the sky and bird wings in the boy's eyes
The ruby sea at early morning was on the girl's skin
The old days slept without a trace
In the garden at the end-of-season

She sat there
Turning her back on the dawn
Welcoming every fading drop in the frozen heart
But her smile warmed the corner of the garden
surrounded the flower beds
with a different light
Peaceful ...

The wait

A flock of cranes
Flying through
An autumn deciduous forest
Flying through
An empty platform
The riverside is cold in winter
You are far away.
Afternoon in the amber color

The wind blowing the low fence
The coal poker in the chest
Tilting the undulating bushes
Looks like she's sick.
The white birds in the sky
The river banks are undulating iris flowers
The trains return to the platform

People crying far away...
The summer is wild under the pillow
Dreaming of the bell tower organ
Fingers releasing the doorknob
She hugs the fire clouds...



With a person on the other road side

It's so late
The moon overflowing to the river
The wind stops shaking the curtains
Tired light eyelids
Why don't you come back
I come in and out with the moon
Want to say a word but can't speak out

A sigh is as cold as a dew flowing through the collar
The book on the table opening
The neighborhoods in the oil painting sleeping
You are coughing and bowing
You are waiting for someone on the other road side
The other side of the river
The other side of the sky
I want to fly up once like a leaf falling tenderly on your shoulder
Who knows you are dreaming
A warm dream
Why your shadow is lonely in the middle of the winter
Rainy days are too long here
So the memories are like rain that following me endlessly
The street is as small as a small hand
To catch is overflowing the sadness
I know that you are also belong to somewhere far away
not this place
But I'm still standing here
Defects like a waning moon
I thought in this world
I'm the loneliest
Why are you still sitting there?
The night pretends to be peaceful
And we
Share the strange silence.