Lê Vĩnh Tài | CORONA, THE YEAR 2030 (160)

Please read the poetry. Amazing and worthwhile words shared.


By Lê Vĩnh Tài, translated by Nguyễn Thị Phương Trâm

ten years

in the cemetery

the dead with the weed grew

we may

tell the story this way

it was like this, precisely like that

the weeds after ten years

now prickly shrubs

or spectacular beds of flowers

after ten years

the faraway hills

like freckles

on someone’s lively face

those who stayed

awkwardly glancing at the tombstones 

justifying their innocence against the spring

since now coughing or feverish

no one cares

there always the green meadows

delicately glaring

now the decease is a full ten years

you take off a set of clothes

drenched in sweat 

and bits of sticky biscuit crumb


you hear the wheat stalks talking

by the reeds steady upon the earth

the ten years

now they say you don’t have to stay home

but you prefer a place where you may hide

like in…

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