THE WRITERS POST
VOLUME 4 NUMBER 2
By the cemetery on Millington Street
(translated by Nguyen Minh Triet)
Then I'll be laying there in the chill
My head will be toward the western hill
The silhouette of the city looks hazy in gray evenings
My resting place will be covered with leaves that are falling.
The forest shows leafless trees
The white cross is barely visible in the mist
Is there still a heaven
For an expatriated spirit?
My eyes will look to the east sorrowfully
In thousand of miles away is my old country.
The place where my body and my poems lie
has no earth heap or mound as it should be.
How can you come to my funeral
To give me a sad farewell bouquet at all?
(If you could've made it,
Instead of flowers, please give me a kiss)
The grass on my grave is rotten or yellow
But it's better than Dam Tien's tomb in the old years
The only thing worse is no incense of sorrow
Or anybody around to shed a tear
Also, nobody knows how to read
The Vietnamese statement on the tombstone in the graveyard:
"Here rests a Vietnamese poet
Who died of nostalgia"
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