A poem in Vietnamese by Nguyễn Bắc Sơn
Translator: Nguyễn Thị Phương Trâm
Boulders propped up in the dried up stream
The breeze cut across the new grass at the edge of the jungle
Our unit advanced like crouching tigers
Bloodshot eyes cold and chilling
The exhausting manoeuvers, four times a day
Caught in moments of rest in jest and banter
Our backs relaxed against tree trunks, looked up at the sky…
Imagined ourselves on a picnic
Oh enemy oh guerrilla
Move aside, forget about firing you guns
Move aside, I’m begging you
I’m in no mood for a fight
Pining for a bottle of beer, a puff of cigarette
Pining for the bird song from the lips of my sweetheart
Oh my tattooed enemy
Consuming rock salt thirsting for a fight
Like you I’m a soldier though I’m shy
As I march, on me is always’ a flask of rượu đế*
Always a clear mind, pure thoughts
View the war like an abomination of this world
Your misfortune is to be hit by my bullet
Your bad luck
War is nothing but a game
No point in overthinking it
We live a tasteless life
We chose the jungle, the fighting
Borrowed the horizon to shoot our flares
The fraudulent jungle with its columns of rolling smoke
Used bombs and bullets like fire crackers on NYE
Our blood and bone, jungle fertiliser
_____
FEBRUARY 2022
_____
*rượu đế: prohibited home brewed rice wine, often hidden behind tall thick clumps of grass like cogon or “đế” grass native to Vietnam. Used commonly now to refer to any strong home brew, may it be out of rice or yam, etc..
source: https://nongnghiep.vn/ly-do-ruou-co-truyen-co-ten-la-ruou-de-ruou-ngang-quoc-lui-d182242.html
Ned Hamson's Second Line View of the News 