THE WRITERS POST (ISSN: 1527-5467) the magazine of Literature & Literature-in-translation. PREMIER ISSUE VOLUME 1 NUMBER 1 JUL 1999

LUAN HOAN ________________ THE COMPASS OF COMMAND TRANSFERRED TO A FRIEND COMMAND OF A CEMETERY BILLET PASSED TO A FRIEND (in memory of Lt.Nguyen Nam) Translated by DO QUY TOAN               My reprieve from outpost duty at Duc Hai               left you, friend, to fill my boots and lead patrols               through no-man's land-graveyard of decapitated,               grass-high trees-that surrounds this clutch of thatched huts,               No tree tall enough to tie a hammock to,               you spread your sack of driftwood bones-their ache               floating down the river of your spine-beneath               her eaves, the bosom of our shared village whore               I heard how badly that day went: sunlight               stacked in halos of heat like purgatory,               South China Sea wind whipcracking across               your face, coating it in a crusty salt mask.               And then, crackling at the edges of your sleep,               our carbines, their AK-47's               startled you, eyes filling with baby blue sky               that stared down like a painless future we crave.               Back from leave, I turn my grief on Duc Hai               like a bad cousin; put a pistol round               through the water jug that bleeds into the dirt,               then dries, a passing shadow-yours it seems               Wailing across the chasm of my absence --               my two-week'leave-, sky torn by shads of light,               I divide my gift of dried squid-meant for you-               with our platoon, but this wine is for you and I.               Drink, little brother: dull the guillotine               blade of loss. To bring you joy, I sip my guilt               and chew the tough squid. But look...in this mist               of tears I taste the blood of my own finger.               Nam, my friend, Duc Hai seems more deserted               now without you, I sit by the calm sea               that no longer gives me peace. When we move               to Duc Phung outpost, who will know death next ? Translated by DO QUY TOAN ( The Ky 21 Magazine, ) · THE WRITERS POST (ISSN: 1527-5467), the magazine of Literature & Literature-in-translation. Copyright © 1999 The Writers Post. Nothing in this website may be downloaded, distributed, or reproduced without the permission of the author/ translator/ artist/ and The Writers Post. 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. The Writers Post Jul. 1999 Return to Contents HOME