DAY 3: The modern poetry movement in the beginning of 20th century in Vietnam

“At the beginning of the 20th century, contact with the Western world, and the adoption of the Romanized national writing system (chu quoc ngu) brought about the unsettling and collapse of the solid cultural, social and literary traditions of our country. Everyday life as it impinged on outward manifestations, emotional responses and inner thought processes underwent a radical transformation among the population. Writers and poets suddenly realized they had to break free from the narrow Confucian tenet of "literature as a vehicle of virtue," and from the rigid demanding rules of prosody, especially those of the Duong model, to allow the flowering of vitality, authenticity, and richness in inspiration and expression. This realization is at the root of the new movement in poetry.” ( by Vo Thu Tinh – in “Phong trào thơ mới: Cuộc cách mạng thi ca đầu thế kỷ XX”, translated by Thomas D. Le at http://thehuuvandan.org/newpoete.html)

The following poem, which has stolen many Vietnamese hearts, is one of the best in thousand of poems created in the modern poetry movement. Disappointedly, it is not taught in the official literature education in Vietnamese schools. One fun fact, though, generation after generation, thousands of people have been on search for the poet T.T.K.H, after the poem was published in 1937. But nobody seems to be successful.

Hai sắc hoa Tigon – TTKh

"Một mùa thu trước mỗi hoàng hôn,
Nhặt cánh hoa rơi chẳng thấy buồn.
Nhuộm ánh nắng tà qua mái tóc,
Tôi chờ người đến với yêu thương.

Người ấy thường hay ngắm lạnh lùng,
Dải đường xa vút bóng chiều phong,
Và phương trời thẳm mờ sương cát
Tay vít dây hoa trắng chạnh lòng

Người ấy thuờng hay vuốt tóc tôi
Thở dài trong lúc thấy tôi vui.
Bảo rằng: "Hoa, dáng như tim vỡ
Anh sợ tình ta cũng thế thôi!"

Thuở ấy nào tôi đã hiểu gì
Cánh hoa tan tác của sinh ly.
Cho nên cười đáp: "Màu hoa trắng,
Là chút lòng trong chẳng biến suy!"

Đâu biết lần đi một lỡ làng
Dưới trời đau khổ chết yêu đương?
Người xa xăm quá! Tồi buồn lắm
Trong một ngày vui pháo nhuộm đường.

Từ đấy, thu rồi, thu lại thu,
Lòng tôi còn giá đến bao giờ.
Chồng tôi vẫn biết tôi thương nhớ
Người ấy, cho nên vẫn hững hờ.

Tôi vẫn đi bên cạnh cuộc đời,
Ái ân lạt lẽo của chồng tôi.
Mà từng thu chết, từng thu chết,
Vẫn giấu trong tim bóng một người.

Buồn quá! Hôm nay xem tiểu thuyết,
Thấy ai cũng ví cánh hoa xưa,
Nhưng hồng tựa trái tim tan vỡ
Và đỏ như màu máu thắm pha!

Tôi nhớ lời người đã bảo tôi
Một muà thu trước rất xa xôi,
Đến nay tôi hiểu thì tôi đã
Làm lỡ tình duyên cũ mất rồi!

Tôi sợ chiều thu nhạt nắng mờ,
Chiều thu hoa đỏ rụng, chiều thu…
Gió về lạnh lẽo chân mây vắng,
Người ấy sang sông đứng ngóng đò.

Nếu biết rằng tôi đã lấy chồng,
Trời ơi! Người ấy có buồn không?
Có thầm nghĩ tới loài hoa vỡ
Tựa trái tim phai, tựa máu hồng."

And this is a translation by Huynh Sanh Thong

"Two Colors of The Antigonon Flowers

One autumn, at each sunset, long ago,
I'd pick up fallen leaves and feel no grief.
As twilight faintly tinged my locks of hair,
I'd wait for him to come and bring me love.

He'd sit there coldly gazing into space,
at the long road that led so far away,
wrapped up in twilight while his hand would wave
those tendrils with white flowers near his heart.

He'd often stroke my hair and heave deep sighs
when he saw me so gay, untouched by cares.
He'd say, "These flowers look like broken hearts
I fear our love is doomed to this same fate."

But at the time I didn't understand
that they meant parting, all those tattered flowers.
I'd laugh and say, "These white antigonons
must represent our pure, untainted hearts!"

How could I know that once he'd gone away
his absence would destroy our love of old?
With him so far away, I felt no joy
on that day when firecrackers strewed the street.

Since then, as autumn comes and autumn goes,
my heart has frozen in an endless frost.
My husband knows that I still yearn for him
and treat me with indifference and neglect.

I am still walking on the fringe of life,
beside my husband and his lack of love.
And as each autumn's dying, dying off,
the shadow of a man still haunts my heart.

In my sad moments, I read novels now,
find women likened to some fallen flowers,
but red ones, those which look like broken hearts
and wear the crimson color of real blood.

When I recall the words he said to me
one autumn long ago, so long ago,
I grasp their meaning now, but it's too late
I've erred and thrown away my love of old.

I so dread autumn eves when sunshine blurs,
those autumn eves when bright flowers fall
on the horizon swept by chilly winds,
he's waiting by the river for his boat.

If he should learn that I am married now,
O Heaven, would he feel betrayed and grieve?
And would he secretly think of all those flowers
which look like broken hearts, are red as blood?"