NEW SPRING, poem by DANG THAN, Vietnam – Art by Lidia Chiarelli, Italy

NUOVA PRIMAVERA

La primavera arriva, la primavera va, e qui la primavera arriva di nuovo.
Molte cose sono passate, e alcune cose sono rimaste.
In inverno il freddo è affilato come un coltello
Silenzioso e rumoroso come il flusso della vita.

Uomini, state bruciando quello che un tempo adoravate.
Adorando quello che avete bruciato – nessuno è ripagato
È così che scegliete – senza pietà
Seguaci senza creatività

Volevo essere un pittore di colori
Ma sono nato sotto coperte nere e fredde.
Quindi non ho potuto trovare la gioia nella mia arte.
che mi ha lasciato senza un punto di partenza.

Cerco il verde di un armonico suono di campanelli
Da portare con me in uno spazio tempo viola
Le nostre vite sono profonde quanto i mari sono freddi.
Come i buchi neri – una enorme massa contengono

*

 

NEW SPRING

Spring comes, spring goes, and here spring comes again
Many things have passed, and some things remain
In winter cold that is sharp as a knife
As quiet, noisy as the flow of life

Men, you’re burning down what you once worshipped
Worshipping what you burned – nobody tipped
Is this the way you choose – without pity
Followers with no creativity

I wished to be a painter of colours
But I was born under black, cold covers
So I couldn’t trace joy into my art
Which left me with no place with which to start

I seek greeneries of harmonious chime
To take with me into purple spacetime
Our lives are as deep as the seas are cold
Like black holes – enormous matter they hold

*

MÙA XUÂN MỚI

Xuân tái, xuân hồi, xuân lại đến rồi,
Bao điều còn lại, nhiêu điều đã trôi;
Cơn gió cuối đông lạnh như dao sắc,
Phù hoa đời kia, bên dòng trầm mặc.

Sao người tàn phá cái hằng tôn thờ,
Lại còn phụng sự thứ từng bẩn nhơ;
Người người dấn bước, nào chút mủi lòng,
Cớ sao chẳng nghĩ một lần sáng trong.

Tôi đã từng mơ được làm họa sỹ,
Tô mầu cho đời rực hồng muôn ý;
Mà sao cơ hàn, bi thảm triền miên,
Đường hầm dằng dặc, đen tối hiện tiền.

Tôi đi tìm xanh, mái trời tươi nắng,
Mang theo cùng tôi thời không tím lặng;
Đời sâu như biển, mà lạnh như tiền,
Hố đen thăm thẳm, nuốt trộng viễn miên

 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/%C4%90%E1%BA%B7ng_Th%C3%A2n

“Hmmtransitionalseason” by Dang Than, Vietnam. Digital art by Lidia Chiarelli, Italy

 

hmmtransitionalseason

As spring passes, summer arrives, tender bamboo shoots beg for purity, golden kites hovering in breezes, blowing boisterously, giving haste to young chests when the winds die down. Obsessed with radiant days and flames that rise to heaven, resting inside heavy hearts, leaving one’s hollow holes becoming one with rain drops propping up the sky. The sea is made smooth, its waves left, beginning and ending, rising – their roots assembling, then overflowing over and over again. Oh, my dear – how the season thaws and softens with meandering mud bleeding red into the snow; stagnant morning dew made from when earth and fire were formed thousands of years ago. Love sprouts and blooms as fire and water rush by, robbers and thieves whisper words in the wind blowing from the highlands to the mountainside. Yellow lights are hung by pink flamingo birds as the phoenixes descend onto red mounts; fire, wind and life gather as guitars are heard. Tao curves and forthright hearts cross, drying up only to become wet again. How perpetually life floats by in lullabies, flags and banners, blowing up dust, leaving the disloyal alone to their heats’ content. In early summer as bamboo rises to thunder’s beautiful youthful songs, notes falling into soup pots one by one, cooking themselves into the sky beyond, rustling high up into the sunshine, throwing columns of invisible smoke up into the air and my mind.

Dang Than

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/%C4%90%E1%BA%B7ng_Th%C3%A2n

(from: https://www.amazon.com/OM-Other-Moments-Dang-Than/dp/0960093117/?fbclid=IwAR05K3OM5FP363gnkniOBkII_CZPzQHnJ9rk7J2ajpJltFf5PcOheWhIuKo)