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MAI
VAN PHAN
_______________________________
Five poems by
MAI VAN PHAN
(translated
by Do Xuan Oanh )
True
On
leaving
he wore
sweater of duck-neck color, large seat trousers
hair
crew cut
hand
holding a book
reaching the door still mumbled:
light then dark...stinking then fragrant...pump then
deflate...walk then fall...slap then pity...half-ripe then overripe...keep
mum then scream...stuck up then slacken...eat then caught in the
throat...expose then cover...intimidate then spare...give then fail to pay...shut
up then uncover...missed it then die...extort then find it...
bolt wooden door
draw iron door
he pressed five safety locks
then threw the key inside...
Turn over the heap of blankets where he used to
lie
a piece of paper was seen scrawling
“Whoever finds me somewhere, call number...
Thanks and would reward”
after the piece of paper still resounded :
stir it up then muddy it...humiliate then
lament...dissolved than drawn...unconscious
then awake...request then drop it...
The Lesson
Arm and elbow always
rigid
From wrist down fingers
should be supple
Hand stately perform in
the bag
I learned this lesson
since childhood
(Once despised like
fermented rice
trodden down the pavement
by that stately one
Give it up for the rest
of my life !)
Stately killing a
mosquito
Stately speaking in
general terms
Stately bowing empty
Stately stealing raincoat
Stately breathing smell
into other’s mouth
Stately protect a wrong
decaying tooth
Stately pissing at public
spot
Stately sniffing in
handkerchief
Stately readjusting cock
in trouser pocket at meeting
Stately blowing nose on
glass window
Stately squeezing money
from a beggar
Stately overhearing
telephone
Stately looking at
sisters’ breasts in the funeral
Stately signing name in a
scientific work
Stately writing love poem
while being impotent
Stately sending virus
into other’s e-mail
Stately changing
fraudulent exam exercise
Stately spending
counterfeit money
......
Arm and elbow always
rigid
From wrist down fingers
should be supple.
Just a dream
They muzzled
plundered everything
and asked me for the sexual organ
Asking for
but if I disagreed
that precious thing would be thrown into latrine
(they knew both the secret and incantations)
I said :
You can take all
but let me keep a little private
would voluntarily be a toy, clout, dog servant
...
I stooped to receive yoke on the shoulders
I fluffed my hair out and began to bark loud
I swung and screeched beep beep
I ground my body on the floor.
I ran around and my mouth foaming
I sweated, shammed death, fluttered
I crumbled, stampeded, broke into pieces
I soaked and squeezed...
Always keeping cool
to see visitor off at gateway
The teapot already made
turned round
the visitor was no longer there
Called on the telephone
House people said he died seven years ago
Mistake (!)
One’s own house
everything upset
Couldn’t remember when the portrait was put
down...
Where was it the spring-operated clock?
The sham-antique tea set given by someone?
Dropped by the neighborhood
trying to ask a few kinds of foodstuff
kind of increased price
kind still of old price
In the house
The tea remained warm
Pushed the cup towards where the visitor sat.
The 1m60 high current of death coldness standing
in face
now and then stooped.
Him
I
Where darkness devoured
darkness
he sat mumbling...
....continued whispering
of unmade darkness
of darkness gradually swallowing darkness
of blackness that couldn’t be blacker
He was where the perfection of:
broken mirror whole again / born insect / lost
virginity / snapped
cable / unclogged sewer...
was a dump of rags / glass
pieces / sanitary towel / outmoded footwear...
was a bullet touching target
/ resuscitating menstruations / stream running into the sea...
Creeping up a high tree
he called aloud:
Hey, shed the light in here!
By glimmering flash-light
everyone saw him open wide arms
and hovered like angel.
II
He laughed and waved fist
through a hole dug on a piece
of board. Bony fingers
curled up into iron fist to plunge thru the center without any obstacle. He
thought, hand seeking the delight of a dog gliding through a big wall. The
gap was too small between the board raised for the
other hand to get through. Thirst for breath.
Every time plunging thru the hole
mouth, his hand again open wide. The board was like a swimming jelly-fish
caught into a bunch of hooks. Turning the board he sang: blue sky hey ho ... here the large chest
vault...
Other side of the board was another world.
Signboard, old teacher, expertise minutes, market, commemorative badge, sewer
cleaner, fellow-countrymen society, monk, bathing oil, mouse trap, the
prophet...and fashion was also different (that’s what he thought!) No wonder
he didn’t plunge the other arm (!) He threw the board into litter box, stood
firm, repeatedly boxed the conventional hole, plunged
at a quick speed.
A forecast of sport future. With solemn title on
evening paper, his name appeared in the list of champions.
MAI VAN PHAN
· THE WRITERS
POST (ISSN: 1527-5467),
the magazine of Literature & Literature-in-translation.
VOLUME
6 ISSUE 2 JULY
2004
Editorial
note:
All works published in this issue are simultaneously published in the printed
Wordbridge magazine double issue 3 &4 Winter
2003 & Spring 2004. (ISSN: 1540-1723).
Copyright © Mai Van Phan
1999-2004. Nothing in this issue may be downloaded, distributed, or
reproduced without the permission of the author/ translator/ artist/ The Writers Post/ and Wordbridge
magazine. Creating links to place The Writers Post or any of its pages within
other framesets or in other documents is copyright violation, and is not
permitted.
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