Nguyễn Thái Bình | AUTISTIC (7)

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By Nguyễn Thái Bình, translation by Nguyễn Thị Phương Trâm

AUTISTIC

.

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

say

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

bloom.

 

_____

 

TỰ KỶ

.

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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