THE WRITERS POST
VOLUME 12 NUMBER 1
††† NGUYEN THI THANH BINH
††††††††† a poem by† NGUYEN THI THANH BINH
††††††††††††††††††††††††††††† translated by Nguyen Ngoc Bich
†††††† Claiming my right to being a nitwit
No, I ainít going to waste my time caviling with God
Playing into the hands of a fella who loves kneading statues
Me who even in my worst moments of despair
Too late anyway
Entertain a second of blindness
Coming and going, whereto
Unable to fix my direction
In this saharic confusion of Life
What has God done with his lump of clay?
What have I done in a wink of time?
No, I donít wish to remember
The moths of Destiny
No, I donít wish to think of you either
A wisp of smoke, a thread of cloud, a dewy breath, a ripple of
†††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††††† wave... (so be it!)
And of course there is no changing this chance meeting
Into a glorious eternity
That day so recent now so far away
That place where there were smiling lips
Reflecting the jellow of night
Leaves whirling deep into a dark pool of sensitivity
Flower secrets of accumulating moon streams
In between my legs is your jail
You go on sucking on the sacred grove
Rasping thirst after trails of kisses
In your sorcererís hands
I feel like an army of apprentices
In this game of destiny
I have the right to dumbly love numberless men without sinning
Since God had blown into his lump of clay
A chilly wind that will last a thousand years...
†††††††††††††††††††††† NGUYEN THI THANH BINH
The Writers Post
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Copyright © Nguyen Ngoc Bich & The Writers Post 2009.
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