Nguyễn Văn Dũng Vicar

Overcharged

Dwells in the thorax of me – a man heart
Irrespective one – ardently desire
The heart lifts liquor-gourd creates lightning while clear sky

Dwells in the thorax of me – a woman heart
Dedicates – appropriates
The heart knows to blush

You look at me with exterminative look
I get broken with two hearts
Overcharged

Woman-person was borne by man-person

I died and dissipated together destiny
A bit of shapely body despaired from ancient time
I died and should be – happy
Be out of sufferings…
Very light – Ramble

He draged one’s steps in the world
Heavily exhausting…
Lone orphan while cold fetter tightened legs of oneself
He lightly inclined head of hair neglectfully
Vaguely looked for to sound of footstep

And predetermination was noisy like whirlwind
Not to be in time to ask my permission
Not to be in time to ask his permission
He gestated me
In a orphan dreadful mood
I – woman-person was borne by man-person..!

Woman-person was borne by man-person
Woman-person was resurrected from the dead
He - man-person borne me
Man-person smashed the chains

Woman-person was borne by man-person
Always forlorn in this world-marked of disorder
Woman-person was borne by man-person
Throughout one’s life is unsteady

Not to be in time to ask my permission…
Not to be in time to ask his permission…
I’m very cold – and I’m
Very lonely…

Hey! Predetermination
Give me back to place that blood meat borne me..!

Naked body

“You” drop off to sleep like white lily-twig
Middle sanctuary of colour – beauty
Sun is loud
Hesitant like that
Spring-sunshine see shyly
Outstanding nature is how beautiful!

I am gentle strides for my soul driefs -
To follow heaving petite bosom – youthful
I quietly view hand of romantic young man
He creates inexhaustible beauty…

“You”drop off to sleep like white lily-twig
On the piece of life is black – white.

New Year’s Eve

Last pedestrian is faded out together night
Liquor of old year is get drunk in old pot
Only wind hasn’t got place to reside
Calm together I.

I see former-man by ardent spirits of last year
The former-songs still hurt former-heart
Human still absorb – Time not to stop…
True, at last lover has already come-
Neglect with disc of sun?

Sea towards evening

Sea towards evening
What more are thee screaming?
My junk has leant on the beach to slept from of old
The ragged sail has turned back with wind salty
Wish
         to forget seducing words of open sea…!

No title that sends to the winter

It seems that somebody go across the door,
Or a wind indulges in playing?

A bit of autumn golden sunshine’s light dried,
This evening,
Also has abandoned me.

How do to come back the winter?
In autumn evening – the bridge…
Has been broken.

Yellow leaves sink into time-home port,
The flock of fish – silent – not to whisk.

Oh yes, cease…
I myself go out to close soft the door,
Pretend as the winter is coming back.

The poem is written in the sea

I am far from you
The moon‘s also solitary
The sun‘s also solitary
Sea still rely on one’s might, long, wide the same
To miss sails in moment have been lonesome.

The wind isn’t rod yet mountain stone must wear
You aren’t evening shine yet dye me in purple
Waves won’t run to where it is, if doesn’t bring you come
Since waves made me
To be vacillated
By you.

Shy

Moon lies full length on the willow branch
Wait for east-wind return to wanton flippantly
Flowers leaves love-naïve not want moved
My heart is vastly thrilling, hey Phoebe!

In the reed-clump overflow, overflow everlastingly
Inner-voice who whisper, why keep silently
Oh that! The moonlight stark-naked bath
Reveal the “gold-mold” under bottom of rivulet.

Indifferently let wind kiss on the cheek
It is how shy at the midnight
I fear that my husband will know
Doubt to the faithful and my purity.

Ripe Spring

In the bright sun, dreamlike-fog disappeared
Some roofs of cottage that speckled yellow
Rustling, the wind trifles with green lap
On the fragrant flower trellis, spring-light arrive.

Green fresh grass waves ripple to sky
Many of country girl sing on the hill
The future in that young girl crowd
There is married-gal who forsakes play.

Song perch oneself high fly mid-mountain
Pant as words of water and cloud
Whisper with who sit under bamboo’s shade
Hear clearly is really delicacy and naïve.

Pedestrian meets in time the ripe-spring
“Trí” heart miss vaguely, remember suddenly country
This year she be still shouldering rice
Along river side is white, dazzling sunshine.

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