Swinging
Praise whoever raised these poles
for some to swing while others watch.
A boy pumps, then arcs his back.
The shapely girl shoves up her hips.
Four pink trousers flapping hard,
two pairs of legs stretched side by side.
Spring games. Who hasn't known them?
Swingposts removed, the holes lie empty.
poem by Ho Xuan Huong
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The Temple of Fragrance
Who could have fashioned this marvel?
The mountain cracks into a wide, hollow cave.
Pious Buddhists struggle to set foot inside,
others gaze at it tirelessly.
Drippings form a sweet streamlet,
as sailors on incoming junks bend their heads.
City folk also flock to these springs and woods.
Clever, indeed, the Old Man in Heaven!
poem by Ho Xuan Huong
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Confession III
Her lonely boat fated to float aimlessly
midstream, weary with sadness, drifting.
Her hold overflowing with duty and feeling,
bow rocked by storms, adrift and wandering.
She rows on, not caring who tries to dock,
sails on, not caring who tries the rapids.
Whoever comes on board is pleased
as she plucks her guitar, sad and drifting.
poem by Ho Xuan Huong
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The Fan
Are you seventeen or eighteen?(1)
Let me cherish you by all means.
Thin or thick you display a triangle, and
Large or small I hold you with one hand.
The more it is hot the fresher you will submit,
Not enough love at night, daytime will make it.
Your cheeks are rose pink and give you grace,
Lords and kings love you because of your face.
poem by Ho Xuan Huong
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Autumn Landscape
Drop by drop rain slaps the banana leaves.
Praise whoever sketched this desolate scene:
the lush, dark canopies of the gnarled trees,
the long river, sliding smooth and white.
I lift my wine flask, drunk with rivers and hills.
My backpack, breathing moonlight, sags with poems.
Look, and love everyone.
Whoever sees this landscape is stunned.
poem by Ho Xuan Huong
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On Sharing A Husband
Screw the fate that makes you share a man.
One cuddles under cotton blankets; the other's cold.
Every now and then, well, maybe or maybe not,
once or twice a month, oh, it's like nothing.
You try to stick to it like a fly on rice
but the rice is rotten. You slave like the maid,
but without pay. If I had known how it would go
I think I would have lived alone.
poem by Ho Xuan Huong
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Three-Mountain Pass
A cliff face. Another. And still a third.
Who was so skilled to carve this craggy scene:
the cavern's red door, the ridge's narrow cleft,
the black knoll bearded with little mosses?
A twisting pine bough plunges in the wind,
showering a willow's leaves with glistening drops.
Gentlemen, lords, who could refuse, though weary
and shaky in his knees, to mount once more?
poem by Ho Xuan Huong
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Day Sleeping Girl
Summer breeze is sporadically blowing,
Lying down the young girl slides into sleeping.
Her bamboo comb loosely attached to her hair,
Her pink bra below her waist dropped down fair.
On these two Elysian mounds, the nectar is still remaining,
In that one Fairy rivulet, the current seems to stop flowing.
At such a view, the gentleman hesitated,
Odd to leave, yet inconvenient if he stayed.
poem by Ho Xuan Huong
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Water-bailing
Not a drop of rain for this dry heat!
Come, girls, let's go bail water.
Let's drag our delta-shaped buckets to that huge square field
where our bodies can pulse to the water's lapping.
Crouched, straining to catch each trickle from the rockheads,
our buttocks tighten with such labor.
Indeed, we work so hard we forget the effort
and, taking a final stance to bend and lift -
you part your legs a second, and it's filled.
poem by Ho Xuan Huong
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Weaving at Night
Lampwick turned up, the room glows white.
The looms moves easily all night long
as feet work and push below.
Nimbly the shuttle flies in and out,
wide or narrow, big or small, sliding in snug.
Long or short, it glides out smoothly.
Girls who do it right, let it soak.
Here is another translation of the same poem:
Light turned on, it is found such a white,
The stalk moves slightly and repeatedly all night.
Pushing with the feet, but lightly release,
Shuttle passing through brings joy and ease.
Large or narrow, small or big they all fit,
[...] Read more
poem by Ho Xuan Huong
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