Poet Tran Quang Dao - Vietnam
His brief biography
Born in 1957. Published 11 books. His typical works: “Grass hug”, “Copy and paste dreams”, “Flying in the dream”, “Moon ring” - volumes of poems.
Won the Poetry Prize by Vietnam Writers’ Association in 2020.
Won the Asian Literature Prize in 2021
Won the Art Danube Prize of Hungary in 2022
His poems
Green field
Onto the field I released the self of mine
the children who were playing in morning shine
The page was green
with cynodon grass honey grass
I was like a herd of angel cows who before good grasses dared not gnaw
having fears for grass lives
The colour of the page was colour of water
I reflected in this my own shadow
and saw the multiple Dao-boy who were laughing on ripple waves
was the wind making fun of me?
I saw multiple horizons
how many were there leaves like footprints
as those that walking on non-earth bearing
of my childhood that was led by the wind?
I heard multiple calls
that sun beams poured with tickets like jackfruit leaves
train carrying childhood of mine
it hasn’t ever come back!
Above a mountain the sun began to lean
it managed to round up but where was the self of mine …
July 21st 2018
On the writer’s desk
The ideas are forming on the laptop screen
the words kept coming in one after the other before they were distrupted
electric fan made note papers flap-flap sounding
Making the cellphone the paper weight
that with all the names in its contacts
and its messages
weighting on the page
that didn’t hide it all the wind blew flap-flap
My hand was stretching out to turn off the fan
heavier-than-word sweats
that then crawled out of my hairsroot
Turning the wind on again
the papers joyfully sang on the desk
the electric fan spinned and rotated showing off
I closed my eyes but had not meditation
For many years black clouds shrouded me
I was wrapped in the black cuscuta
intangible walking sounds were right behind me
Oh yeah the fan rotated the wind
the papers still sang its joyfulness
my mind was letting the words go …
The bell-ringing of papers weight shivered suddenly.
July 2018
Peeled my wings
I peeled my wings
to flock together
every beat of my own blood felt pain
I was flying
the wings didn’t get tired
the thinking got hurt
Why didn’t I fly in the flock
even though the formation still to be right
I neglected what to fly for
In dreams
that someone who flew by one’s own wings
put hands together
begging me please don’t fly at the dizzying altitude
I peeled my wings and fly
returning the hard-of-hearing clouds to the sky
returning the strike-desire-dumb breaths to the wind
on the slowly flapping wings
Left a laugh at the ground …
TuyenQuang, July 27th 2018
Growing an overlapping crop
For BaoNinh my compatriot
After offering the harvest gold
the silently silence
ricestraws was loaded with wind
they were incorporating to the sun beam and heading for reproduction
The monk put the palms of his hands together
Amitabha after the ceremony
saving the seeds of men heart’s kindness
the seed germination was headed for their season
Putting the fullstop at the end of the poem
the poet looked up in the air
he felt emptiness inside
on the table the words walked eachother entering the dream realm
The poem done the life of mine gone
I found a new life!
Getting old
Sitting and dangling feet into water
likewise for my youth
suddenly a fish with icelike teeth
that cut one of my phalanxes off
Long-distant riding
there’s a roof vent
where a movie of greenness was showing by the wind
I put my head through the vent
my eyes immediately darkened by two black arrows anyone shot with
One day in a fantasy park
dancing hand in hand with a sunbeam joyfully waltz-with-me
when a verse suddenly appeared
in the wind I heard the sound of an old guy sawing his horn …
I went home and sat in tears
the loneliness tied its noose
the shadow of my wings
that were flapping tragically beneath the moon!
In my dream I felt lost my leaves …
August 2018
(Translated into English by Nguyen Chi Hoan)
