To the Old Citrus Orchard

Translated by Andy Kale
 

Under the young grass remains the morning shadow sinking on the piano
Being voiceless with the quiet larch
There are still hundreds of loving words of mine silently echoing
Millions of footfalls restoring the dry cough in the broken chest

I am sitting and playing with the disconnected words which are shapeless
And which turn into weird human faces
How long ago together, we like the rain
Waiting impatiently for every meal steaming warmly and profusely

The same chanting voice reminds in the middle of the night
With every night I get up and light the lamp with me suffering
Do stairs ask for promises of return?
Does the sweeping wind still blow green through the young rice field?

I have once been engaged to the dark night
With thousands of spirits which were as gentle as in the fairy tales
There was a lovable one bringing candy as a gift for our childhood
I try to lie waiting and, o old orchard do you know

What blood is flowing in me?
(Flowing like the turbulent tearing water)
I look and look and cannot forget
But missing the fragrance of the magnolia flower in your hair

As much as my longing for a clamorous cry of cicadas
And the pale blue sky staring at the old rock wall

In this place I am linking spring with winter
Amidst the city which has more black dirt than the hazy mist of the old homeland

I desire to be back to the old days
Though knowing that everything has been farther mountains and rivers all my life unable to reach
However, inside me there is still the waving hand
Even when standing in line with others to share the meal of the enslaved

What feeling is slumbering with troublesome ties?
What eagerness is inundated with the scent on the edge of a storm? 

Worries here are approaching and no obstacle can hold them back
There is the merry volley fired across human’s hope

The situation is like the dumb rock so it cannot be moved
Raise your voice to say for me, if you understand, the innocent words before lulling yourself to sleep

Over there still exists fast attachments
For ages autumn has changed into winter with force
Once I ran wildly in the vast North wind
Chirping and hopping in many a red flamboyant tree

Tomorrow which railroad station I would be
Whether I would be full or hungry there is no omen
There are still a lot of congratulations and praises
Among thousands of hanging eyes propagandizing in generous words

I used to sit in the citrus orchard with you,
Seeing Father’s wrinkled forehead tensing with the sweet foliage
Seeing Mother’s withered hands picking the worm-eaten buds
And your cheeks became rosy with the ripen fruit
In our innocence I was always ready to run after you
To make you fall and fight for a first fruit of the season
And the birds must have been laughing at us

What I do now is only to wake myself up with a wiping of the face
Every habit has also abandoned me therefore beside me I don’t have anyone close
No sooner do I get up at the start of the day than I hurry to look forward to the coming night
So that I can go to sleep again

Nguyen Duc Batngan

Original title: Gui Cho Vuon Hanh Xua
From: "Binh Minh Cam" (Shrouded Dawn)
A collection of poetry written in 1975
published in 1985.