Cha: An Asian Literary Journal - Allegory Of The Land

Contributors / December 2016 (Issue 34)

Allegory Of The Land

translated from Inrasara's Vietnamese original by Alec Schachner

I
Not a few friends have scolded me for wasting time on Cham poetry
is there even a trifling scarcity of readers? Will there be anyone to remember?
yet I want to squander my entire life on it
though there may only be around a quarter dozen people
                                         though there may only be one person
                                                or even if there’s not a single living soul.

II
One line of proverb – one verse of folk song
half a child’s lullaby – one page of ancient poetry
I search and gather
like a child seeking a tiny pebble
(pebbles that adults carelessly step past)
to build a castle for only myself to live in
a castle one day they’ll use for shelter from the rain – it’s certain!

III
Flowers give off the ambrosial scent of perfume
no one smells – flowers throw their fragrance to the wind
birds lift their voices in song
no one hears – music flies scattered through space
my soul unfolds wide open
but you won’t accept it – my love wilts to ash.

IV
Tagalau flowers bloom purple on the knolls of childhood
the jungle has gone missing
bald and desolate hillocks
perhaps only for me in this solitary afternoon
the bare withered branches – still trying to bud.

V
Like the backward look of a son going to war
                     after building a snug roof for his aging mother
like the backward look of a devout ascetic
                     after building a temple for true believers.
an itinerant field worker
hit the road with a glance back at the fields of rice blooming tender ears.

VI
What did ocean say to shore, as shore gave ocean eternal embrace?
thank you generous shore for spreading wide open arms
what did bee say to flower, as flower gave bee its pistil?
thank you flower for opening your soul to share
what did tree say to earth, as tree gave earth shade?
thank you earth for teaching me a lesson on acceptance
and we
what do we say to each other, as we give each other hands, lips,
                                                                                     glances?
what will I say to you?
what will you say to me?

VII
A grove of young trees urgently sprouting on the green expanse
but their roots have not yet reached deep in the earth
only one gust of wind
is enough to make them shiver in hysterics.

VIII
Sunny hill old deserted
clanging buffalo-bells ceased
no jungle left for buffalos to wander
yesteryear wearing the bell the buffalo scowled
now the path empty smooth
remember the bell’s ring – sorrowful buffalo.

IX
Her complexion somewhat pale – she denied she was Cham
a few months overseas – he didn’t admit to being Vietnamese
out of self-respect – Karl Jaspers didn’t consider himself German
Henry Miller rejected America – because he hated war
there is a vast gulf between denial and rejection.

X
A flashing glimpse of father
half a smile of mother
and your two faraway onerous hands
among the vastness of our native sunshine
asking me where else can one find heaven?

Ngụ ngôn của đất

I Không ít bạn trách tôi mất giờ cho thơ tiếng Chăm
có bao lăm kẻ đọc? Rồi sẽ còn ai nhớ?
nhưng tôi muốn lãng phí cả đời mình cho nó
dù chỉ còn dăm ba người
                               dù chỉ còn một người
                                       hay ngay cả chẳng còn ai.

II
Một câu tục ngữ – một dòng ca dao
nửa bài đồng dao – một trang thơ cổ
tôi tìm và nhặt
như đứa trẻ tìm nhặt viên sỏi nhỏ
(những viên sỏi người lớn lơ đãng giẫm qua)
để xây lâu đài cho riêng mình tôi ở
lâu đài một ngày kia họ ghé đụt mưa – chắc thế!

III
Hoa tỏa mùi hương
không ai ngửi – hoa thả hương vào gió
chim cất tiếng hát
không ai nghe – nhạc bay khắp không gian
lòng anh mở trao
em không nhận – tình anh rồi tàn rữa.

IV
Bằng lăng nở tím đồi tuổi thơ
rừng đi mất rồi
đồi hoang trọc
có lẽ cho riêng tôi trong chiều cô độc
bằng lăng trụi nhánh tàn – vẫn gượng nở hoa.

V
Như cái ngoái nhìn của đứa con ra trận
                     khi cất xong mái ấm cho mẹ già
như cái ngoái nhìn của kẻ chân tu
                     khi xây xong ngôi chùa cho người thiện tín.
anh nhà nông lãng tử
lên đường và nhìn ngoái lại đám ruộng lúa đang trổ đòng đòng.

VI
Biển đã nói gì với bờ, khi bờ mãi ôm mang biển?
cảm ơn bờ rộng vòng tay bao dung
ong đã nói gì với hoa, khi hoa cho ong nguồn nhụy?
cảm ơn hoa mở lòng ban phát
cây đã nói gì với đất, khi cây cho đất bóng râm?
cảm ơn đã cho bài học về nhận
và ta
ta nói gì với nhau, khi ta cho nhau bàn tay, bờ môi, ánh mắt?
anh sẽ nói gì với em?
em sẽ nói gì với anh?

VII
Đám cây non vội vươn lên khoảng xanh
mà rễ chưa được cắm sâu vào đất
chỉ cần một cơn bão rớt
cũng đủ làm chúng run bấn lên.

VIII
Đồi nắng cũ trống huơ
tiếng mõ trâu thôi gõ
rừng còn đâu cho trâu đi hoang
xưa đeo mõ trâu làm nhăn nhó
nay đường trắng trơn
nhớ tiếng mõ – trâu buồn.

IX
Có nước da hơi sáng – em chối mình là Chăm
mới ít tháng tha phương – anh không nhận Việt Nam
vì tự trọng - Karl Jaspers không cho mình người Đức
Henry Miller chối từ Mỹ – bởi chán ghét chiến tranh
giữa không nhận và chối từ kia cách nhau trời vực.

X
Một ánh nhìn của cha
nửa nụ cười của mẹ
và hai bàn tay diệu vợi của em
giữa mênh mông màu nắng quê hương
hỏi tôi còn tìm thiên đường đâu nữa?

Notes by Alec Schachner:

The collection, The Purification Festival in April / lễ tẩy trần tháng tư, where "Allegory of the Land" comes from, represents a broad range of Inrasara's poetic oeuvre to date, tracing his diverse journeys through storytelling, forays into a varying array of narrative modes and transitions through lyric and narrative verse. Like all great storytellers, Inrasara pulls from a wide network of experience, weaving together the past and the present into a tapestry of the personal and collective, blending the real and the mythical. Wandering across history, literature, folklore, music, philosophy, Hinduism, Buddhism, pop culture, myth, war, peace, harvest, community, tradition, dream, language, ritual, epic and the everyday, Inrasara’s poems sing not only the song of the Cham people in modern Vietnam, but also of all human experience – of our imagining of self and of the myriad innermost emotional lives of globalization and modernity. Deeply rooted in his readings of the Cham epics, Inrasara’s verse somehow also resonates with the flowing lines of Whitman and Hughes, a montage of human experience and insight, capturing essences both singular and universal. (Pictured: Inrasara)

/// Source ///

Alec Schachner is an independent literary scholar and poetry translator based out of HCMC, Vietnam. His translations have appeared in Asymptote, various issues of Ajar online & print journals and Jerome Rothenberg's blog Poems and Poetics. The Purification Festival in April / lễ tẩy trần tháng tư was Schachner's first full book of contemporary Vietnamese poetry translations, with two more slated for publication next year. He is oft to be caught reading original and translated works around Hanoi and New York. He is also a multi-instrumental cross-genre musician and sound installation artist.

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