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THE WRITERS POST (ISSN: 1527-5467) VOLUME 8 NUMBER 2 JUL 2006
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Poet TAN DA, and the
‘little girl’ who dared
to challenge him miscellaneous essay
by VU DINH DINH VU DINH
DINH was born and
grew up in Vietnam. Pursuing higher education he came to the US in 1956 and
attended the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, University of
Chicago, and University of Hawaii where he obtained his Ph.D. He was
recipient of an East-West Center Grant, a National Endowment for the
Humanities Grant, and a National Science Foundation Honorable Mention Award,
and having served as Senior Heath Planner with the Houston Department of
Health and Human Services, taught at the college level, and had scientific
research works published in international journals. The
name Tản Đà is dear to Vietnamese as Robert Lee Frost is to
Americans. His real name is Nguyễn Khắc Hiếu. He was born
in 1888, four years after the Nguyễn Royal House signed the Patenôtre
Treaty to hand over the reign of government to France. His birthplace is Khê
Thượng, a village at the foothill of Tản Viên (Mt.
Tản) overlooking Đà River, thus his pen name Tản Đà
predicting a life fully attached to the land, the people, and the language of
Vietnam. His mother, prior to becoming the third wife of a judge, was a
traditional songstress practicing the profession in an ill-reputed district
in the capital. His father died when he was three years old. He was then
raised and educated by his eldest stepbrother, who was province director of
education. He owed much of his literary training to his talented brother-in-
law, a highly respected province chief.
Although well-versed in Hán Việt, he never passed the regional
exams, which screened students hopeful for a mandarinal career. He learned
how to read and write present-day Vietnamese by himself. It is not known
whether anybody taught him French or not. Anyhow, he was allowed to sit in
the entrance exam for the French translator school but failed to pass the
oral test. This
is how the poet describes himself: (The Almighty gave birth to a fellow
named Tản Đà. He has a country but no home. He travels far and wide half of his
life. He has lots of friends, but is seldom home
with his wife. With a bag of poems he visits all three
regions, Befriending mountains and waters,
frolicking with winds and the moon.) “Trời
sinh ra bác Tản Đà , Quê
hương thờ có, cửa nhà thời không.. Nửa
đời Nam, Bắc, Tây, Đông, Bạn bè
xum họp, vợ chồng biệt ly. Túi thơ
đeo khắp ba Kỳ Lạ chi
rừng biển, thiếu ǵ gió trăng.” To
the illiterate mass, Tản Đà is a fortune-teller, an alcoholic, an
eccentric, a confucianist, a patriot, and a teacher of the national language
(chữ quốc ngữ). To his contemporaries, he is a dreamer. The
journalist-scholar Phạm Quỳnh remarked that “his life does not
match his dream, so he dreams to make it up ” (thân không bằng
mộng , nên mộng cho cam thân). The eclogue chronicler
Nguyễn Văn Ngọc characterized him as a poetic craftman whose
style is difficult to imitate. He is a journalist, an essayist, a playwright,
and above all a great poet. Xuân Diệu said that “Tản Đà’s
poems are verses that have spirits ” (những câu thơ có
thần). Some even see Tan Da as the nation’s bard, a title normally
reserved for Nguyễn Du. Below are two poems that show the quality of
his poetic skill and his characteric eccentricity. (Reproduction from Ngày Nay, January
28, 1939) Leaving
Paradise Peach petals were sprinkled along the
Paradise path As clear creeks and golden orioles all
came to bid farewell! Half a year of blissful life in
Paradise, One step of miserable existence on
Earth, Olden vow and little love were just
that and no more! Stones are cut, mosses turn brown, Water runs deep, flowers float around, And cranes fly high, Disappearing into the blueish sky! Now Heaven and Earth are again forever
separated, The grotto gate, The mountain top, The beaten path, Reminiscences of a thousand years of A moon-washed celestial stroll. “Tống
biệt Lá đào
rơi rắc lối thiên thai Suối
tiễn, oanh đưa những ngậm ngùi Nửa
năm tiên cảnh, Một
bước trần ai, Ước
cũ, duyên thừa có thế thôi! Đá ṃn,
rêu nhạt,, Nước
chảy, huê trôi, Cái
hạc bay lên vút tận trời! Trời
đất từ đây xa cách măi, Cửa
động, Đầu
non, Đường
lối cũ, Ngàn
năm thơ thẩn bóng trăng chơi .”
Everybody likes this poem, which is an excerpt from his play Paradise.
However, as an author complained, nobody is good enough to tell why it is so
beautiful. The poem was put into music by the popular Vietnamese composer
Phạm Duy and the famed Chinese sculptor Đới Ngạn Quân
had it engraved on a piece of ivory no larger than a grain of rice. Shortly
before Tả Đà died, he composed another lovely poem: Wanting to be
“Cuội” * How gloom is the autumn night, dear
Sister Moon! I am again so bored with this earthly
world. Has there been anyone sitting in your
royal palace yet? If not, pick me up by your banyan
branch. We can be friends ; don’t feel sorry
for yourself . We can play with the winds and frolic
with the clouds. And then every year, on the fifteenth
day of August You and I will just recline, Laughing at what’s going on down there. *“Cuội” is the Vietnamese slang for a
chronic liar .You may like to read up on Vietnamese folklore to find out how
“Cuội ” got onto the moon. Muốn
làm thằng Cuội Đêm thu
buồn lắm chị Hằng ơi, Trần
thế em nay chán nữa rồi. Cung
quế đă ai ngồi đó chửa? Cành đa
xin chị nhắc lên chơi. Có
bầu, có bạn, can chi tủi, Cùng gió, cùng
mây, thế mới vui.. Rồi
cứ mỗi năm rằm tháng Tám, Tựa
nhau trông xuống thế gian cười.”
Tản Đà passed away in Hà Nội on May 7, 1939. He was
51 years old. While searching for materials for my book Selected Vietnamese
Poetry I learned a valuable lesson, which has since served me as guiding
light for the kind of work I am doing, i.e., if you spend time reading poetry
and if you are willing to listen to people talking about poetry, you will be
rewarded with pleasant surprises. In my book you will find several poems
which are beautiful, but whose authors you probably have never heard of
simply because they are not professional poets who submit works regularly for
publicat-ion. These unknown authors are ordinary people, who want to jot down in memorable words fleeting
moments of their lives and normally kept them in private. In many instances
seeing the value of their works I literally had to beg them to share their
poems with poetry lovers. The poem by the “Little Girl” who dared to
challenge Tản Đà because of his pessimistic point of view
expressed in “Wanting to Be Cuoi “ is another case in point. The “Little Girl” is still here with us at the
young age of ninety-two. Her name is Nguyễn Thị Chung*. For her published works she used the
name Người Sông Nhuệ
(Person from Nhuệ River). Except for a slight slur in her speech
caused by a stroke, her mental ability is unimpaired. Her eyes are probably
sharper than mine. Her voice is strong. Her memory is excellent as she still
can relate details of events that happened more than half of a century ago.
The poem I got from her was dictated to me from memory. She is a long-time
friend of mine. I used to practice Tai-ji with her son-in-law and her
daughter. Yet, at no time during our friendship did she ever hint to me that
she was a writer or a poet, until recently when I talked to her about how
Tản Đà wanted to escape to the moon. In a casual manner and
unassumingly, she said that she used to bring sticks (đóm) for him to
light his water pipe and prepare tea to treat him. Tản Đà often
came to visit her eldest brother. He called her amiably “con bé con ” (the
little girl ).She was 11 years old then. She recalls that Tản Đà
was slender in built and his face was long instead of square like the Chinese letter “điền”
that Vietnamese like to see of a man. That was more than eighty years ago.
Time did not seem to go that fast. As our conversation went on, she told me
that she had concern for Tản Đà when she read his poem “Wanting to
be Cuội.” He sounded sad and she learned that he was not in good
health. About two years after the publication of his poem the poet died.
Although Người Sông Nhuệ was not a poet when Tản
Đà was alive and despite the fact that women in Vietnam in the old days
were not allowed to go to school, she imitated Tản Đà’s poem to
express her optimistic viewpoint of life. Also, she did not appreciate the
irreverence Tản Đà had shown to Sister Moon when he asked her to
pick him up with the banyan branch. Her objection stems from an ungallant
verse that Chiêu Hổ (this name has become a sobriquet for a drunkard.)
answered the famed poetess Hồ Xuân Hương :“I offer you both
the banyan branch and its bulb.” (Cho cả cành đa lẫn
củ đa).
NgườI Sông Nhuệ sent her poem under the name of “Con
Bé Con” as Tản Đà used to call her, to Phong Hóa Magazine (Social
Mores) only to receive a note from Khái Hưng, one of the leaders of
Tự Lực Văn Đoàn Literary League, saying how dare “The
Little Girl ” is to answer the poem of brother Hiếu. Hiếu is the
first name of Tản Đà. Below is the poem that was submitted more
than sixty years ago, but, as far as its author knows, did not go to press.
We need to keep in mind that, unlike nowadays, at that time only poems by
known authors were printed unless they were exceptional and their style
conformed strictly to Tang poetry standard. Autumn Night How wonderful is the autumn night, dear
Sister Moon. The earth has now fully awakened. Do you have anyone to guard your palace
yet? We, earthlings invite you to come. Lunar Angel mix with Earthly Folk,
don’t feel sad ; We will joyfully climb mountains and
swim in waters. Then, on the fifteenth day of August, Angel and Earthly Folk will joint hands
to celebrate festivities. Đêm Thu Đêm thu
thú lắm chị Hằng ơi . Trần
thế ngày nay đă tỉnh rồi. Cung
quế đă ai ngồi đó chửa? Trần
gian mời chị hăy xuống chơi. Có Tiên có
Tục, can chi tủi; Cùng
nước cùng non thế mới vui. Rồi
cứ mỗi nmă rằm tháng Tám, Người
Tiên kẻ Tục sánh vai cười.”
Người Sông Nhuệ continues to write poetry and prose
for overseas journals. For one reason or another many of her works have not
been published. Although I have not had full access to her thick files of
articles and poems to have a good understanding of her philosophy of life,
what I do know about her is that she is not afraid to speak her mind. She has
survived all odds and credits it to her positive attitude toward life. It is
my understanding that her latest poem about the beauty of the Mid-Autumn
Festival was broadcast over the local
Vietnamese radio in Houston. Author’s
note: * “The Little Girl” or Mrs. Nguyễn Quang Đôn,
whose maiden name is Nguyễn
Thị Chung, passed away on March 13, 2006 in Houston,
Texas. She was survived by her two daughters and a son who are now living in
the United States. She was cremated
according to Buddhist rites. VU DINH
DINH The Writers Post &
literature-in-translation, founded 1999,
based in the US. Editorial note: Works published in this issue are simultaneously published in the printed Wordbridge magazine (ISSN: 1540-1723). Copyright © Vu Dinh Dinh & The Writers Post. Nothing in this magazine 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. |
