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Dã-Thảo QT.
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THE EMPTY HOUSE.
- I kept my head down,
- Avoided eye contact,
- He kept his voice low,
- I held my silence intact.
- I put on my icy face ,
- He kept his eyes distant.
- I vowed to silence,
- He had no word in returned rage.
- This is a cold war,
- Yesterday started.
- No smile three times a day,
- No good morning,
- No good afternoon,
- And no good night.
- This is a cold war,
- Between two spirits,
- In an enormous empty house.
- Dã-Thảo Quế Trần
- Spring 1998
-
Căn Nhà Trống.
- Em cúi đầu yên lặng,
Tránh không nhìn mắt nhau.
Anh cần gì nói nhỏ.
Em lặng im cúi đầu. - Em mặt lạnh như đá,
Anh giữ mặt cách xa,
Em thề với im lặng,
Anh làm thinh trả thù. - Đây là chiến tranh lạnh,
Mới bắt đầu hôm qua,
Không ba lần một ngày,
Mỉm cười chào buổi sáng,
Mỉm cười chào buổi trưa ,
Và không luôn buổi tối. - Đây là chiến tranh lạnh,
Giữa hai linh hồn ma,
Trong một ngôi nhà lớn
Trống không, ngôi nhà ma. - Dã-Thảo chuyển ngữ.
01/10/2013
CÒN NHẬN RA EM.
Còn Nhận Ra Em.
Ta vẫn còn nhận ra em,
Người em của thời mười bốn.
Em vừa tuổi độ trăng tròn,
Còn ta vừa gần ngã bóng.
Ta thường thấy em qua ngõ
Với “những bước chân âm thầm ”,
Em buồn hay em ít nói?
Ta chỉ thấy em lặng câm.
Em với đôi cánh thật to,
Em bay trong vườn buổi sáng.
Em làm bình minh rỡ rạng,
Còn ta? hồn như lang thang.
Ngày đó ta hay buồn lo,
Vì người mình thương xa vắng.
Ở mãi ngoài chiến trường xa,
Thỉnh thoảng mới về thăm nhà.
Bóng tối chập chờn ngoài sân,
Hồn ta bay ra chiến tuyến
Và bước chân em âm thầm,
Vang vang trong lòng phố luyến.
Nỗi nhớ trong ta quay hoài,
Chẳng để cho ta nằm yên.
Bây giờ em quay quắt hỏi,
Làm sao cho hết ưu phiền ?
Em ơi!
Dã-Thảo TTQ. 20/05/2015
JUST MAKING SURE.
Kính thưa Bạn Đọc,
Dã-Thảo xin kèm theo đây bài thơ chuyển ngữ “Just making Sure=Để Cho Chắc” vì có vài bạn cho ý kiến nên để hai bài đi chung với nhau cho các bạn đọc luôn bài thơ tiếng Anh. “Just making sure” < Please click here.
Xin Các Bạn click vào link này > “Để cho chắc” để đọc bài chuyển ngữ. DT thành thật cảm ơn các Bạn.
Thân mến,
DTQT.
HOW DARE I.
I had borrowed
a tiny cell from my father,
I had borrowed
a tiny cell from my mother,
To form my body.
My mother had
a little room in her care.
She let me dwell there,
real comfortably, rent free,
Plus full security.
I caused her problems,
in the nine months of my contract.
But she never minded,
And she seemed so happy,
When I kicked and punched.
I came to the world,
When my contract runs out.
Although the self looked after the “I”,
Still, I had to depend on her,
Until I grew into full maturity,
Far from crime, drugs, and alcohol,
Away from all trouble as she asked me to,
My body is perfect.
Took care of myself,
because “I” was not mine.
It had been borrowed,
It belonged to my folk,
I must take good care.
More than half a century later:
“Life is not meant to be easy
In my adulthood,
It kicked me “left, right and centre”.
I felt suicidal sometimes.
When my own branches
bounced back, my own eyes hurt
to the point I thought,
To take my own life,
Life had become real blue.
But the “I” was not mine
The “I” had been borrowed
And the owners had passed away,
I had not returned the “I” yet…
How Dare I think of death!
Fire may be red,
Life may be dark blue
But love is green and forgiving,
I took that feeling into my heart,
My heart is listening.
Dã-Thảo Quế Trần
Spring 1998.
THE HAND.
She gets out of the house
Before the sun rises,
And comes back home
After the sun goes down
She has two hands,
Soft and tender,
Loving and caring
Working very hard.
Both her hands are lacerated
By the sharp edge of papers,
The hands that bring food to the table
For her offspring.
The hands that knead three blocks of clay,
Into the right shape,
The right shape of mind
For the next generation.
Dã-Thảo Quế Trần
Spring 1998
INNER PEACE.
She had the feeling of a fire inside her body. Every thing seemed “not right”. She had just accompanied a friend to the airport for his overseas trip that afternoon. Very clearly she remembered going through the checking of the luggage, the boarding pass, then the plane taking off for Hong Kong. She had stayed there until there was no sight of the aircraft.
She’d returned home on her own. The fire was getting worse. She knew depression had taken advantage of her again. A suicidal feeling was taking hold of her, her heart beating so fast and so loud that she scared the seagulls away. She managed to sit on a bench in the park for a while. She then noticed someone lying on the grass, peacefully asleep. There was no romance, no kisses. He was absolutely ignorant of the seagulls dancing in the beautiful garden full of flowers. Even with all the power of their scent, the lovely flowers could not produce enough energy to pull him out of his dream, to put him back on the stage of life. He paid no attention to her presence. She stood up, shook her head, walked past the man, made no move to wake him up. He stirred a bit then lay still. She walked away without turning her head around.
As she left the park, she noticed the fire inside her body was no longer there. Her children must be waiting for her and worried that she was so late coming home. She wouldn’t disturb them. Having been in this state of mind sometimes before, she thought she needed to go back to see the doctor for help. She was so important to her children, if not to “the other”. Perhaps the chemicals in her body were insufficient or weather didn’t agree with her. But that seemed not to be the answer. She knew deep in her heart what was wrong, but she didn’t want to acknowledged it.
The lights inside her home were on, her eldest daughter must have got dinner ready by now. When she thought of her daughter, she felt sorry that she hadn’t paid too much attention to her lately. She rushed in. All her children were there. She wanted to cry, but she didn’t. She felt relieved because she was now safely home. The children started to tell her about their day at school, they laughed, and she promised to herself that she would go to see her doctor tomorrow.
Dã-Thảo Quế Trần,
Sydney Spring 2000
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