Nguyễn Thái Bình | AUTISTIC (7)


By Nguyễn Thái Bình, translation by Nguyễn Thị Phương Trâm



the morning

locked inside a dark cloud

the raindrops

the metal bars


I’m downtrodden

fertilizing the trees with my sadness


the desolation shoved into

a single day

while outside

the low pressure brewed a storm


as you point your finger at my face


you autistic idiot

made me realise 

for how long have I been 

fearful of human interactions

I’m talking to the trees

the grass the bees


I’m some deadbeat maybe

a mistake, born in the middle of a city

finding myself yearning for elsewhere

each time the flowers 

in my garden







buổi sáng

bị nhốt trong những đám mây mù

những hạt mưa

song sắt


tôi cúi gầm mặt

bón những nỗi buồn vào cây


sự cô đơn dường như dồn hết…

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