Trúc Anh
SKY LADDER
Spring, at the moment, is “say san across this place”[1]
Press down leaves, unveil clouds Stiffy Soong-hao[2]
An eye blinked, a hundred years gone
A nation’s rises and falls
A bloodshed to bring forth peace
Mountain wriggles – thousand battalions of war elephant charge
Discussion on heroes can not simply rely on their failures and successes
Predecessors’ integrity lasts til nowadays
Cycle of tree life
An inherited human life that guards the border
Precarious layers of leaf race against time
Hold the ladder, step on clouds
Every leaf step draws quiet vacant air
Step wrapped around mossy reportage wall old as dirt
Step swallows dew so as from barren earth seeds may rise
Step distills morning-dew wine that smelled of brewed sticky rice
Step that forest aroma is distilled and on which honey sunlight condenses
……
The Kinh remember proud cunninghamia
The Han call them Abies,
Among hamlets of Tay, Nung it is May-vac
Dye color of Co-may brightens the color of Dao dress
The medicine of Van du gladdens Xòe dance of the Thai
Yew, Vietnam swamp cypress becomes the legend of bazan
As reaching the sea they become Sheoak, Ironwood…
Oh holy trees
Having followed compatriot‘s footstep, followed grand forest wind to this land to bud and seed then we are brothers, deepen the root harden the branch to strike firm in righteousness
Having gone through the mill they bud out in a stormy rainy night, accept the bitter so its muted tone shell bears a pentagonal iridescence, being selflessly eventhough humankind may sometimes frail
Cold rock and blurry dew, bazan of burning light, ever since the beginning of time, despite fire and water the haughty remains
The burning cold that pierces the skin all the way to the mountain, air strip strains leaves into bronze brown, the colder it is the more the bud twists and tights
Unalterable in the middle of awestriking bullets, though leaves and branches were all shot to hell, the bruised trunk left ragged by cannon shrapnels takes root and buds out after an eternal night, another trunk then thrives boastfully before rapid gun sound
Cold, hard and dormant uphigh, hum a peculiar wavy low-tone harmony, whizz by and play a pure fantastic song of sky silk
………
If rock were property
Then whereelse could it be more wealthy?
Sun burns rock
Rock reflects, bakes the burning human shadow
Tree covers and eases the land
Spread the crisp over the girl’s-waistband hill slope
Flute sound or tree’s words
Pay no heed to the flowing water
Root holds tight, never leaves
Pay no heed to the moving earth
Branches hold the clouds, never leave
Cunninghamia puff up its chest like a young man
That far bastion green of soldier uniform
Sweat nurses the verdent bud
Livid skin dries out golden season
Callous hand melts white snow
Let the foot free from enervation
The heart less arid
The remant freeze on the blue tower
The night tosses in cerulean
Moon is yet an orphan
Just naïve like grass
Lying at night hearing water-fall
Startled before March
A semal seed soft as a lady
Burns a blue rare afternoon of the borderland
White orchid blossoms all over the sky summit
Sunshine finds its way back to mountain slope
Falling leaves stir up empty woodland
How merriment a laugh
Lively lips play a leafed rthym of khen[3]
Sticky rice passioned with love
The North West’s purple mottles the afternoon
Sparrows chirp in forest path
………..
Snow drapes medals on the green leafy chest
A soldier carves his name on the upright trunk
Burries himself in youthful sleep after the battle
Drenched dew on buttstock
Finger that stays all night long on the trigger
Entrust life and death to the mother land
Who said sterilization perishes love
Country’s key region shone with love
Peaceful border
Flaming border
As invaders come the rain turns into tempest
Golden sunlight, dazzling sunlight turns into nature’s kiln
Burnt-over land, tall house’s floor becomes solid bases
Shelters and trenches around the rock’s bottom
Gun pit in the middle of the paddy hill
The mother whose forehead strained of the carried basket, the boy who hand-pick bamboo shoot, the elder who cross-legged at tall house’s entrance… they all become guerilla fighter
Understanding man’s heart
Tree hastily grows high seeking source of light
Whiter and whiter the thousand-year cogongrass
Thousand-year green cunninghamia
Sharp leaf shoots into dawn
This land can not be taken
By those who only know to invade
There are no army that can be more flamboyant
When red, orange, indigo-blue, purple, brown, black enter battle
In the far front brothers become comrades
From the elders to the younglings a shared purpose is to
Fight the invaders
To carry the scrawny country across wrenching tempest
If flesh and bone were property
Then whereelse could it be more wealthy than the borderland
Whereelse could there be more flesh and bone than the borderland
Whereelse could it be more tremendously hurtful than the borderland
Cunninghamia sets up sky ladder
Dew stays on every strip of gem
Huddling birds call each other…
[1] In Thai, this means “attending a festival” (“say san” is a Thai’s festival)
[2] Translator note: “Soong hao” is traditional folk song of the Nung
[3] Hmong musical instrument
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