THE 17-YEAR-OLD PALACE
(author: DAO VAN QUANG)
Put the car into gear - accelerate the car up the mountain.
The winter mountain of 1988 is waiting ahead.
You sit behind me, the motor flies...
Don't be afraid, here I am!
Giang is heaven, the gate of heaven is very high!
Stop the car, kiss Giang Pass, admire the vast white reeds
beside the mountains rising waves and the sea at dawn
From the 7th floor of Seasons Avenue, the seasons have gone...
Only to arrive at a season of longing
Honda VT 250 cm3
"Copper pipes" are spread out as legs,
Jumping on bumpy, rocky roads,
Steady steering, bending dangerous roads,
Deep abysses, Sun sign
Wind cardamom forest flower Lilac
Not mixed with my 17 year old sensitive virginity
, please accept
In the kiss 36 years later!
After passing through 4 passes, we will reach Cao Bang with love.
The border gate is right on our lips, sing patriotism.
Raise our V-finger, take a picture of the poetic scenery of the countryside.
Many paths to take, waiting to be opened.
From the burning of youth, we create the roads...
August 20, 2024
LE NGOC
(author: VI THUY LINH)
Sincerely dedicated to People's Artist Le Ngoc
There were times when I thought I couldn't cry anymore
When all my mental limits were exhausted.
The separation in front of the page and screen
Who understood like Nguyen Tuan
Self-exiled in the "white execution ground"
I wanted to announce to the whole world
ViLi in Love, I was writing love poems
, then suddenly I wanted to be an actress like when I was a child. I
only liked the role of a princess, beautiful clothes and flashy lights.
When I understand each life's limits,
I realize: Being an actor is the most profitable
Time gain, when playing many roles
A life with many destinies
A stage name with several character names
An extended existence: Roles remembered through time time
The world is a giant stage with 8 billion roles.
Millions of big and small stages. Count how many stars and doubles.
The main, secondary, secondary, and masses can be reversed in reality.
Messed up scenes of tragedy, joy , and anger.
Noisy crying - choking. Bitter smile
The applause is short and long
Full of light, dim eyes
The true artist does not retire
Opens the stage to serve and sacrifice
The stage is empty of audiences, because the public is lazy to watch, has lost the habit
Or the part Are their lives still in a script with no way to draft it themselves?
Tears flow from
pearly tears Dried bitterly by the streaks of days
Forehead wrinkled with drunk hair
Bereaved by the wind blowing curtain
Arms open red velvet curtain
The world within my body becomes perfect
I taste tears falling, whoever loves me catches falling pearls
Drama - say - no - words
Purple invitation to be a couple
The audience has many actors, the auditorium has no drama or movie
A series of lips suddenly practice kissing
No need to memorize the lines!
5:00 p.m., August 14, 2024
TAKING NOTES AT A COFFEE SHOP - 2
(author: NGUYEN QUANG THIEU)
Dark red pomegranates
In the basket
Next to cups of black coffee
Remember the woman of the same name
Sleeping at the bottom of the river in Summer
And the bunches of fairy hair seaweed
Flying forever towards the lake's door
Oh Pomegranate... Oh
Pomegranate Pomegranate hair is not long anymore!
Only fruits
named after the lost woman
are still ripe and red
in the darkness
of coffee cups.
7.2024
WATER SOUL
(author: People's Artist HOANG CUC)
The cloud reflects on the lake.
The lake changes color.
The cloud sadly asks:
Where am I going?
Why are you following me?
The lake grumbled.
Where am I following you?
The clouds change color.
I didn't expect you to follow me! The Drifting
Cloud
...
No longer purple, blue, white, or gray
The lake laughed and
the waves rolled Lying
here in my previous life,
I was there!
7.2024
SLEEPING IN LANG SEN
(author: VO MANH HAO)
It's like seeing
a ghost rice field blooming in the autumn dream
of a human hand beating at night to let the season's seeds fall with a labored sigh,
light heels
mixed with the yellow color.
Whoever pulled out all the lights
and darkness came back suddenly like an
unspeakable death? You left my life on an anniversary day, bowing your head as if confessing your sins.
Every death has beauty.
Everywhere I look I see only loneliness,
the sound of people is less frequent than the sound of fish, the
sound of fish splashing breaks the mist
to rescue a fossilized soul.
Still can't hear your voice,
the wind from the Melaleuca forest replaced the engineer to close
the canals like a narrow human heart
groping for shore.
I went to find sleep
outside and heard the groans of the skeletons.
7.2024
