Poet Nguyen Cuong
His brief biography:
Real name: Nguyen ManhCuong
Member of Hai Phong Writers' Association
He has published 4 literature books:
The smoke of deserted fields - Hai Phong Publishing House 2010
The old man writing poetry - Literature Publishing House 2015
Daily dreams – World Publishing House 2017
A lonely journey – World Publishing House 2019
His poems:
A tiny fluff
The tiny fluff
swaying in the breeze at the porch
A sparrow escaped the storm last night
this morning was hurried to leave
leaving a part of its body as a sign
Birds chirping outside
The hurrilylittle fluff
for nothing
still wanted to fly away...
🍁
A color dialogue
the life is white
I'm just a faint moonlight
the life is black
I’m a dim oil lamp
the life is a morning sunshine
I am a night dew on top of a grass
quietly flying with the wind
no scent no color
the hardship life, full of loss and pain
confused between real and unreal, good and evil,
flickering oil lamp
also needs a lightingheart
I walk among the enchanted crowd
being pushed and dragged to become a blind and deaf
the dialogue between black and white
what does that mean then...
🍁
Who are you?
I'm too old
to write love poems
but still
monologue in middle of the life
then my dear
who are you in the metaphorical world around me
you are not a lover
I'm not a nonsense singer
who are you
in a dark night dream
I imagine you are from the pain of humanity
the pain is still continuously flowing
rivers flow for years
to take me to heaven gate
where never meets again
whoever you are...
🍁
Morning coffee drops
Drop by drop
quietly falling in a morning coffee filter
a spoon lying face down
the feeling of a peaceful sky
Don't know how long I am sitting here
in the nightly accumulation and formation
every drop waiting for
every drop thinking
like silently counting the infinite leaving
then sipping myself
the last bitter taste sticking to the glass bottom
Every drop of dark coffee in the life taste
momentarily evoking the flow
is that me too
every morning sitting and filtering tears without words...
🍁
Dreaming a return dayin the rainy night
in the rainy night
missing the old house
did I forget to close the door when leaving in a hurry
the ragged wind and rain
the mossy bamboo roof for many years covering the human life
now the people are far away
cold and empty nights awaked
past months and years
fallen leaves on the dry porch
like wandering footprints to find the home
seeking some saved pictures
tonight, dreaming about my homeland
the darkness oversleeping on the moss wall
the memory is like stairs leading to an empty house
each step up breaking a piece of the full moon...
🍁
Poets and their roles
fans
what didthey know about the poet
when you were trying
to fulfill rolesof the life stage
it was just the roles
even though love anger happiness hate
can't change
the things all arranged in the daily script
you werechased by this guy
werepraised by others
like a strange dish to satisfy a craving
of the madly engrossed crowd
from dream illusions
you created ordinary people
to dialogue with the conscience
and declare war on all kinds of gods and demons
you flied away
like a white cloud
leaving raindrops on the arid ground
which seeds remembered your past ways...
🍁
Missing to my hometown
my hometown has been accreted over thousands of years
still alluvial still silver wave
still the eternal ships
whistling slowly tothe sea
all my life wandering in empty streets
shadows of the time shining on the rivers
rising tides heaving
heaving rough seas... heaving storms and thunderstorms
layers of people were born and fallen down
many people sailed to the dawn
has anyone ever reminisced?
a corner of the life anchored waiting
has anyone been separated sometimes
missing the sea far away through layers of rough waves
missing homeland through every salty breeze
in middle of the wide earth and sky, pity for the suffered grass
has anyone looked to the future?
the city shining with lights in the moving deep night
what dream brings me back to the old wharf
to find myself after thehuge changes...
🍁
The village
My village is dyed in the yellow sunshine
Bamboo leaves have fallen for thousands of years, filled with empty alleys
The water is calm, the small wood crosses
There are purple flowers waiting over there
My village is green forever
Round eyes through each small leaf
The idyllic song following the pupils’ wings
But bewildered whole life of flowers
But my hometown is in the depths of my soul
It is a heavy thatched roof, so sosad
It is a glimmer light of the late night separating
Through life is still lost forever
🍁
I and the words
You and I are far apart
mountains, hills, rivers and streams
jobs and ages
daily purification worries
But we share the same belief
in the words and magic power
when standing aside, it's enough to create a storm
I and you and every word
small and lonely like thousands of living beings in the life
visiting each other today
opening hearts to the earth and the sky
with what we are expecting
then separating
suddenly feeling like the words in a poem
thought incidentally but endlessly...
🍁
In a green world
which tree I don't know
first time seeing in the garden
it's like a dead old witness
I cut off a few branches
the core is still green
I don't know as if it hurts but I feel sorry
long winter
the shrivelled dry branches traced the purple sky
sad haiku poem
I go through the winter with many emotions
a part sending to the poetry
a part hiding somewhere quietly
and an early spring day
I suddenly see strong sprouts
popping up from all over the branches
I understand now
which tree is it
and why is that in a world full of quiet competition...
(Translated into English by Khanh Phuong)
