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THE WRITERS POST (ISSN: 1527-5467) VOLUME 9 DOUBLE ISSUE JAN 2007 JUL 2007
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Vietnamese love poetry from traditional pre-war
period to new formalism BY KHE
IEM
translated by Do Vinh
KHE IEM, Vietnamese playwright,
storywriter, poet, editor. “Hot Huyet”, his debut literary work, a play, appeared in South
Vietnam in 1972. Thirteen years after the Communist conquest of South Vietnam in 1975, he escaped Vietnam by boat in 1988, spending a
year in a refugee camp in Malaysia before coming to the United States in
1989, where he settled in California. In 1994, he founded Tap Chi Tho, a very
successful poetry magazine which is under his editorship until 2004 (Poetry Magazine, US: Premier Issue
launched in Fall 1994). He also published his other books: “Thanh
Xuan” (poetry. US, California: Van, 1992), “Loi cua qua khu” (story
collection. US, California: Van Moi, 1996), “Dau Que (poetry collection. US,
California: Van Moi, 1996), “Tan Hinh Thuc, Tu Khuc va nhung tieu luan khac”
(literary essay. US, California: Van Moi, 2003. The Vietnamese people are a
poetic people, with tendencies toward writing emotional poems, especially
love poems. Before the era of the New Poetry (Thơ Mới,
1930s-1945s), Vietnamese poetry did
not have love poems because of the dominating influences of Confucianism and
the feudal systems. Only after the
New Poetry era, influenced by the French Romantic movements, did Vietnamese
poetry return to its primary character.
All of the famous poets wrote love poems, from Xuân Diệu, Huy
Cận (Reminisces -- Ngậm
Ngùi), Bích Khê (Nude Portraits --
Tranh Lơa Thể), Hàn Mạc Tử (Love of Homeland -- T́nh Quê), to Đinh Hùng (Tự T́nh Dưới Hoa), Vũ Hoàng
Chương (The Twelfth of June
-- Mười Hai Tháng Sáu), to Nguyên Sa (The Silk Dress of Hà Đông -- Áo Lụa Hà Đông), as well
as many other poets whose poems are easily found at websites featuring
Vietnamese literature. Almost
everyone has committed to memory some lines or some poems of the above-named
poets. Rhyme-schemes had been an ideal vehicle to convey emotions, so much so
that readers assumed only rhyming-verse poems could be successful love
poetry. The themes of the poems
centered on love and were gentle in their rhythms, easy to remember and to
recite, and required little thought.
But how is it that the love poems that appeared in the 1930s-1945s
became so popular? The majority of
the readers and writers of the Traditional Pre-War (New Poetry -- Thơ Mới) were youths in their twenties,
thus, love was a great passion and inspiration for them. Around the same time, the National Script (Chữ Quốc
Ngữ) had just begun to come
into use, and society was emerging from the austerities of the feudal systems
period. There was a strong
inclination toward adopting Western ideas.
Furthermore, there was peace, albeit under French colonial rule. In part, anti-French rebellions had
failed, while revolutionary intellectuals were espousing education programs
to raise the public’s level of sophistication. The young poets of this period were French-educated and
accepted the ideals of Romanticism (Lăng
mạn) and Symbolism (Tượng trưng). Therefore, love poetry had a unique
opportunity to flower. But
peace only lasted a little more than a decade before war broke out. The entire country was engulfed in flames,
and poetry took on a more distressed tone, romantic and tragic at the same
time. Examples of this poetry are
Quang Dũng’s Advance of The West (Tây
Tiến), and The Two Shores (Đôi Bờ). The love poems of the Traditional Pre-War
era were melancholy and trite, and no longer suited the changing times. The legacy of World War II, of various
political movements, of war and the struggle for independence preoccupied all
segments of society. Once the war
ended, the country was partitioned. North Vietnam was cut off from the rest
of the West, while South Vietnam came under the influence of the Free
World. The young poets in the South,
thirsting for new knowledge, with a renewed peace, readily absorbed the
post-war trends of Western thought such as Surrealism and Existentialism
and began to work on a new course of free style poetry. They were more concerned with language and
the nature of poetry itself than with the subject of the poems, even while
tumultuous events encircled them. Realistically,
free style poetry is not an ideal vehicle to carry love poetry. We know that the very first free style
love poem, Old Love (T́nh Già) by Phan Khôi, was a failure, while a
successful love poem by Hữu Loan, The
Purple of Sim Blossoms (Màu Tím Hoa Sim), in fact, preserved the rhythms
and rhyme-schemes of Traditional Pre-War poetry. It became popular as a song when the poem was set to
music. The very nature of free style
poetry is to reject the rhyme-schemes of Traditional Pre-War poetry, similar
to the way that the West’s free verse poetry rebelled against traditional
western forms. When poetry in the
West rejected traditional forms of poetry, it was an artistic search to
redefine poetry at its very core. The
meaning in analysis supplanted the importance of rhythm and rhymes. The reader became actively involved with
the poems and interpreted the poems in their own particular ways. Multi-level meaning and interpretation
occurred with each reading, not necessarily following the word meanings. Finding a way to attain fulfillment of the
new out of the old is indeed a respectable accomplishment of modern
poetry. This success rests in part on
the logical foundation of Western civilizations. In all their endeavors, a scientific need to understand is
fundamental. Analytical reasoning had
become deeply ingrained in the Western psyche. It has become second nature and part of culture. For nearly a century, free verse poetry
enjoyed the dynamic variations of many diverse schools. Dadaism
and Surrealism, based on the
incidental and coincidental, explored new imageries and new ideas, creating a
strange sense with the readers. In
both poetry and visual arts, these trends developed concurrently with the
drive to make new art the primary vehicle of expression in the modern world. And
with each school crashing onto the scene, rebelling against tradition and
form, in the classical sense, the artists became obsessed with finding their
own style, their own imagery, their own word usage to create new thoughts and
feelings. Cubism (Lập thể), Abstractionism (Trừu
tượng), and Pop Art or Conceptual
Art in the visual (plastic) arts are examples. The craft is not found in the talent of the artist, except in
the unique brush strokes, color composition and strange new concepts. As for poetry, although more analytical in
its search for meaning and in its use of words to create strangeness, in the
final account, its zenith is no higher than that reached in the visual arts.
That is, they both express the meaninglessness of life. And the art absorbs life, expressing itself,
the meaninglessness. It is surprising that modern artists have converged on
quite the same path to artistic expression. Yet,
no matter how awesome that is, change is inevitable. It is not that modern art is more advanced
or more valuable than any art preceding it.
It is only more appropriate to its own age. Western free verse poetry, with nearly a century of rebellion,
testifies to one thing: that each era has its own value and is relative, not
universal or superior. Art and
literature are products of human activity, no different from life,
ever-changing with time. Then
came post-modernism at the later half of the century; considered an excessive
outgrowth of the modern era, it was washed away by the technologies of the
information age that arose in the 1980s -- from architecture, to visual/plastic
art, to poetry, all self-destructing.
Without any struggle, traditional poetry remained dormant for nearly a
century, only to make a comeback to greater heights, metamorphosing into new
traditions. Life itself, by its
nature, is meaningless. Yet in order
to survive, humans must seek to give it meaning. Each generation is given a blank sheet of paper and starts anew
to mark its own existence, not to affirm or negate any other sheet of paper
that preceded it. Meaninglessness is
actually meaning written on the blank pages of the present. While
in Vietnam, after World War II, the readers became bored with traditional
Pre-War love poetry. Yet with a
national script literature still in its infancy and lacking the
thousands-of-years-accrued Western foundation of systemized learning,
Vietnamese poetry could only utilize the concept of strangeness, combined
with rhetoric, to create a uniquely Vietnamese free style poetry. Under the influence of Surrealism (Siêu thực) the best
aspects of Pre-War poetry, musical melodies and poetic creativity, were
replaced with the written word. Once rhyme and rhetoric merged, the
written word became no different than the concept of the painter Piet
Mondrian (1872-1944) at the turn of the 20th century. Abstract art expressed itself through the
relationship between brush strokes and color combinations. Brush strokes and color schemes liberated
the contents of the composition, not necessarily reflecting reality or life
but more expressive of the effervescent nature of reality and modern-day
life. Words closed and opened upon a
world full of imagery and fantasy, creating strange new feelings and
transporting the reader to alternative realities. Similar to abstract art, poetry eluded interpretation and was a
product in and of itself. The
rebellious nature of peacetime literature (1957-1960) was soon overthrown by
the brutality and suffering of wartime (1960-1975). The young readers and writers of the South in the 1960s returned to rhymed forms, but replaced the
Pre-War love themes with spirituality (zen, for instance), in hope of
escaping from turbulent times. Rhythm
and rhyme returned, but love poetry was nowhere to be found, except in the
works of a select few such as Nguyên Sa and Phạm Thiên Thư, who
made great effort to breathe new language and new emotions into poetry. Yet they were unable to break free of the
traditional Pre-War framework because their language was still limited by
considerations of rhythm and rhyme, caught up in rhetoric. Perhaps because society still depended
heavily on agriculture, the cultural psychology followed. There was no fundamental need for changes
in expression. After April 30th,
1975, the country experienced a regime change and closed itself up to the
rest of the world. Poetry became
inactive up until the era of Openness, which started in the 1990s. By then, the young poets from within the
country had revived the defunct art of free style poetry, dominant in the
1960s in the South. Archaic and
esoteric words were replaced by the vernacular and the profane, with the
intent of shocking the reader. Yet
Vietnamese poetry, as well as other plastic arts, remained stagnant because
of its use of the old methods from the western modern period. Love
poetry could only return with appropriate forms. The talent and creativity of the poets had become regressive
and in dire need of a renaissance.
Whereas rhymed-verse poetry conveyed emotions and free-verse conveyed
ideas, new formalism balances both tendencies and harmonizes both thoughts
and feelings. Because each age
needs its own vehicle and new contents require new forms, Vietnamese love
poetry, after undergoing many changes, has finally matured to the point of
giving birth to its own new art form.
Still, there are barriers to overcome as the readers have become
accustomed to reading traditional verse and free style poems. Poetry cannot be forced, it must flow
naturally. No one can impose change
on another without the other realizing it..
Regardless, we would like to introduce a few New Formalism poems,
love-themed and otherwise, for the readers’ enjoyment. Dă
Thảo FARAWAY LOVE I still go by here every day, buildings tall and old as always, the balcony a light color and low where you used to place your hands talking to the absent- minded friends while watching me walk by every morning. But now you are no longer standing there in the sun to greet me with smiles sometimes bright; if I look back at you by the low balcony, sometimes I see only a wink behind my footsteps that passes by and disappears into your dark glasses, that would not return until lunch when we are in the cafeteria in the fleeting moments of noon hurried with everyday things, we speak of the crackbrained and bragging boss, lay-offs past, now and coming soon; stories about being in jail, about world terror, mostly about broken things (although we do not miss them we still think of them), stories about you and a young girl who speaks the same language but is not of the same skin color, about me and a young boy who is not the same skin color and speaks the same language but never stories about us alone. I go by everyday buildings, tall as always; the talker by the balcony is no longer, the greeting in the sun no longer, the morning smiles no longer, eyes quietly warming; you have left me before I could tell you about my refugee roots, my first generation immigration and the minority community Chinese, Vietnamese, Spanish, Cambodians, Indonesians, Cubans, and Malaysians; and all you know is that I am a citizen of a mixed race nation I love to work I am lazy at playing I like brad pitt I am not addicted to soccer I am not obsessed with football I like jazz I love hiphop I am a different skin color, speak a different language, am with the same company. Now that you are gone, I miss you much!!! (but I do not say as much because it does not count for anything anyway.) Quốc Sinh SICK Phở at Đề Thám junction is the
best and a bean ice-cream at Cung Ứng is the
best. Isn’t it so? When we are together no matter if it’s sweet or bitter, it’s best. Afternoon on the stone benches of a park, we invite each other to sit. Đá Chồng’s waves wake up in the middle of the night. The fruits and the flowers of Đầm
Market are sweet with honey. I look to the north and see Bà Nằm Mountain in the horizon, letting her hair down (all her life) I look south and see Cầu Đá Palace amidst
trees. Why is H sick and silent like Bà Nằm Mountain, all her life letting her hair down? Why is H sick for this room to be sad like the Palace fading amidst forests? Let me run up to Long Sơn Temple and ring bells for a while. I will light
ten-thousand incense sticks and pray for color to return to your face. I remember when your laughter was like the waves crashing onto a beach. I remember when your outstretched arms were as long as the seagulls’ wings flapping in the open skies. And I took you out to go stand by Bóng Bridge where we walked
beneath the Tháp Bà Tower, to wander on golden beaches under moonlight, the passions before we parted. A wanderlust time in Nha Trang. Trà Đóa LIFE
IS SO GOOD ALREADY! Right,
life is so good already, why
keep complaining only to
add to our misery? Before
we didn’t have enough to
eat. Now... right, it’s so good already.
So good already, my
brother. My family will
drink beers out of cans this new
year. Right, so very good already,
I am able to buy an
American-made bra, a name-brand.
Right, it’s indescribably good.
So good my mother couldn’t believe
it. She keeps wondering, staring
at sausages and the new coat
I just bought. The poor old lady...
it’s really so good already.
Very good sir, better
than all things I’ve ever dreamt
of, so good already, really,
really, good, good, sir, unexpectedly
so... Nguyễn Phan Thịnh MY
DREAM I
dream of meeting myself across a river, crossing
a spring, sometimes going uphill sometimes
going downhill but never sitting. I
dream of meeting myself in my dream asking
myself where I am going, looking for
whom, to do what. I befriend myself and
the both of us go down a hill, across a
river, up a mountain, the two of us
crossing a spring, going forward, up a
mountain, down a mountain, not seeing anyone.
I ask myself in my dream where
is our home, where was our home town? We
keep going from dusk to dawn without beginning
or ending, without hope or despair. Just
me and myself, the two of us alone with
each other. I dream of meeting myself in
my dream. Not one chance to sit down, but certainly
on the other side of this dream,
we will both lie down in the same grave. 8/9/200 Xích Long THE
EYES OF BRUCE LEE Eyes
sharp as swords slanted arrogantly as
if mocking a world lacking in the adventurism
of the ancients. If
the eyes are the windows of the soul then,
those eyes are like two doors facing an
ocean, shimmering with sadness. The
sadness heavy on the eyelashes. Furious
while the eyes stare even harder? Sharp
eyes, like two very precise lines cutting
through a foolish love like the love between
An Lộc Sơn and Dương Quí Phi, pointing
to a flag, fearless in the face of
death, marching toward Trường An to
lay claim to a beauty! Oh! Those
eyes shoving us into the past, reminiscent
of half-Chinese eyes, innocently
gazing back to a time. When
a lover would come to tear apart Heaven
and Earth like the eyes of Bruce Lee?
The poems are taken from the Anthology
of Vietnamese New Formalism Poetry.
(Thơ Không Vần, Tuyển Tập Tân H́nh Thức).
KHE IEM The Writers Post &
literature-in-translation, founded 1999,
based in the US. VOLUME 9 DOUBLE ISSUE JAN 2007 & JUL 2007 Editorial note: Works published in this issue are simultaneously published in the printed Wordbridge magazine (ISSN: 1540-1723). Translation copyright © Khe Iem & The Writers Post. Copyright for the original © by the individuals involved. 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. |