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april/ tháng tư

Hạ Như chuyển ngữ

(dịch “tháng tư” của vi lãng, đăng trên damau số 25)


(blind) mist, east of ranges
(free)zing earth yellowed from a rotten star

minor (asian/loved) land lost, all who did
forget promises, names changed into
games of falling squares

there, red (sickle) tongues & steely teeth
exploding next to white cross
gate-crashing day at end of month
before the coming deluge

stairway leading straight to back of a gun
from a mad hot housing
when evening darkly fell into sea
lightening the burdens off all lost twenties

hundreds of small dresses, scattering white
over green fields on a day not yet
to strange town of no kinship
leaving them with a crying heart

in the wilting city
strange guests stayed during late hours
dishes from eating place with unfamiliar taste
empty push-cyclos riding on empty streets

them pregnant with guns, explosives & bullets
black shirts, thonged feet hiding big numbers
along west ranges of watery colors, basket boats over seas
leaving cities full of scheming plans

demanding them to go and them to stay
those last hours, no more vacant space
to believe in those lying words
palace from the city of lights

those looking for goods seeking named faces
dried young rice stubbles and ancient bamboos at end of walks
here, this distant land, needing no promises kept
those twenties darker than that flag background

then, them travels farther and deeper than dust
darker than oceans beneath crescent moons
newer than histories written afresh
about winds violating the brotherly fields

ever, days into nights
bringing back the same
innermost april

bài đã đăng của vi lãng