The Lark
Translated by Andy Kale
In this holy night the thorns are sprouting to bless
You are anxious with the domes of trees and the over-flowing night mirrors
O a season in me roars like the waves flickering in the eyes
Wait before you turn down the marriage proposalI see only the flying birds
There is only the drenching rain
I have withdrawn in myself for how many years
You are still the singing voice in the good-smelling holy night of singing birds
It is the rain beginning in the heart
It is the torch of yours burning low beside the dark wellSome day there will be among us no words as in a carnival
(The immense night holds no hate)People see each other off on your hair
People bend down over the head to hear the hair turning into silver white
O youth which comes back thousands and millions of times
It has been past the waiting time so I don’t know if you are still acquaintedThen I set out seeing myself off across the river
In spite of the distant blurred side of enlightenment
Somebody metamorphoses into you and taps the sword on the top of the larch
Somebody metamorphoses into me cheering and silently hanging the guitar upside down
Though in me is storm and turbulence
I don’t have self-pity on my flightPreserve your passion for me as you have pledged
For humans still soar up as conscience without being illuminated for miles of darknessNguyen Duc Batngan
Original title: Son Ca
From: "Binh Minh Cam" (Shrouded Dawn)
A collection of poetry written in 1975
published in 1985.