By Tô Thuỳ Yên, translation by Nguyễn Thị Phương Trâm
You’re so small(em), how could you be the North Seabird
You’re so small, how could you be the North Seabird
Endlessly I would mistake it for the foggy East sand…
The gate of the gods, an erection of the Truong Son wave
Each wave drowning each dream
Gosh where came the thoroughfare
To at this intersection meet
To infinitely be apart, in our separate paths
The dust and grime of each other?
Guilty of the godly crime, so far from home
The shedding of the youthful hair over our ears
The corrosion of a rocky stature, constantly awake is tào khê river
At the red bed exhausted by the silent stars
While I am hundreds of roots in consequence
Duly accepting the moss covered forest in the dark
Layers upon layers of mushrooms over decay
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attis 