Kh? Im
L?i Gi?i Thi?u
Nh th? Kh? Im v cng trnh Th? M?-m?t th?i ?ng nh? (American Poetry-A Memorable time)
B?n ??c t?ng bi?t ??n Kh? Im trong t? cch ch? soi c?a tro l?u th? Tn hnh th?c, tc gi? c?a nh?ng tc ph?m th? (Con ???ng th?) v Ti?u lu?n ph bnh (V? ?i?u khng v?n).
D?p ny, chng ti nh?n ???c cng trnh m?i c?a ng: Th? M?-m?t th?i ?ng nh? .
?y l ?n b?n song ng? nh?m gi?i thi?u m?t s? nh th? M?, g?m 2 ph?n:
-Ph?n 1: Nh?ng thin th?n n?i lo?n
-Ph?n 2: Th? T? do.
Trong L?i b?t, Kh? Im tin r?ng, cng trnh ny s? gip cho ng??i ??c: h?c h?i thm, khng nh?ng v? ngn ng? v v?n ha m cn ti?p thu ???c cch lm th?, nh?n ra s? khc bi?t gi?a 2 dng th?, h?c h?i kinh nghi?m c?a nh?ng nh th? M? v lm giu cho th? Vi?t. Theo ng:??c song ng? l m?t ti?n trnh h? t??ng, qua b?n chnh, ng??i ??c c khuynh h??ng ?i tm b?n d?ch v ng??c l?i, qua b?n d?ch ng??i ??c s? quay l?i ??c b?n chnh. ng cho r?ng: Th? gi?i ?ang thu nh? v m?i n?n v?n ha l nh?ng ng??i anh em, cng m?t m? nhn lo?i, c?n chia s? v c?m thng, chung s?ng trong an bnh v lm cu?c ??i thm h??ng s?c.
Xin c?m ?n nh th? ? tin c?y g?i b?n th?o v cho php chng ti l?n l??t gi?i thi?u ??n b?n ??c th? c?a nh?ng nh th? M? m ng tuy?n ch?n.
V?n Vi?t
Elizabeth Alexander
LETTER: BLUES
Those Great Lake Winds
blow all around:
Im a light-coat man
in a heavy-coat town.
Waring Cuney
Yellow freesia arc like twining arms;
Im buying shower curtains, smoke alarms,
And Washington, and you, Love states away.
The clouds are flat. The sky is going grey.
Im fiddling with the juice jug, honey pot,
White chrysanthmums that I just bought.
At home, there is a violet, 3-D moon
And pachysandra vines for me to prune,
And old men with checkered shirts, suspenders,
Paper bags and Cutty bottles, menders
Of frayed things and balding summer lawns,
Watching TV baseball, shelling prawns.
The women that we love! Their slit-eyed ways
Of telling us to mind, pop-eyed dismays.
We need these folks, each one of them. We do.
The insides of my wrists still ache with you.
Does the South watch over wandering ones
Under different moons and different suns?
I have my mothers copper ramekin,
A cigar box to keep your letters in.
At least the swirl ceilings are very high,
And the Supers rummy, sort of sly.
I saw a slate-branched tree sway from the roots.
Ive got to buy some proper, winter boots.
So many boxes! Crates and crates of books.
I must get oil soap, bleach, and picture hooks.
A sidewalk crack in Washington, D.C.
Will feed my city dirt roots. Wait for me.
L TH?: ?I?U BLUE
Gi ? H? L?n Ny
th?i kh?p n?i:
Em l ng??i m?c o m?ng
trong m?t th? x m?c o d?y.
Waring Cuney
Cy dy leo hoa vng nh? cnh tay xo?n l?i;
Em mua t?m mn che b?n t?m, my bo khi,
V Washington, v anh, Tnh yu ? xa ?y.
Nh?ng ?m my ph?ng l?ng. B?u tr?i ng? xm.
Em ?a ngh?ch v?i bnh n??c tri cy, h? m?t ong,
Hoa cc tr?ng em m?i mua.
? nh tr?ng trn mu tm
V c nh?ng cy nho cho em t?a tt,
V c nh?ng ng gi m?c o ca r, ?eo dy qu?n, mang ti gi?y
V nh?ng chai r??u Cutty, ng??i th? s?a
Nh?ng th? s?n c? v c nh?ng bi c? ma h tr? ??t,
H? ?ang coi tr?n ??u bng chy trn TV, bc v? tm th?.
Nh?ng ng??i ?n b chng ta yu! Nh?ng cch nhn hp m?t
Tun ph?c v tr? m?t ni ln s? th?t v?ng ng?c nhin.
Chng ta c?n t?t c?, m?i ng??i h?. Chng ta c?n.
Em ?au tay v vi?t th? cho anh.
C ph?i ? mi?n Nam trng ch?ng nh?ng k? lang thang
D??i m?t tr?ng khc nhau v m?t tr?i khc nhau?
Em c ci khay b?ng ??ng,
H?p thu?c l x g ??ng nh?ng l th? anh.
t nh?t nh?ng ci tr?n nh quay mng mng trn cao,
V ng??i Gim th? l tay say r??u ranh mnh.
Em th?y m?t ci cy cnh xm lung lay t? g?c.
Em ph?i mua vi ?i giy ?ng h?p v?i ma ?ng.
R?t nhi?u h?p! T?ng thng sch.
Em ph?i mua x bng l?ng, thu?c t?y, nh?ng chi?c mc treo tranh.
M?t khe n?t trn v?a h Washington, D. C.
?? cho nhu c?u h?n ch? s? ti?p c?n thin nhin. Hy ??i em.
WHO I THINK YOU ARE
Empty out your pockets nigh time, Daddy.
key and pennies, pocket watch, a favored
Photograph of Ma, and orange-flavored
sucker-candies, in the dresser-caddy.
Grandpa, leaves his silver in his trousers
potions for catarrh set on the bureau,
and his Castile soap, All pure. Oh,
those oval, olive cakes for early rousers!
Babas home is different from my Daddys:
the sofa arms are draped with quiet lace,
Does he fix fish with cardamon and mace?
Coupons in a cookie tin. Meat patties,
Steaming Cream of Wheat and ripe banana,
Juice cup with the little paper hats
the guava jelly jars on plastic mats.
We are your children and receive your manna.
I see you both. I see whats in your pockets.
Coins from you, Dad. Baba? Whats for me?
Fortune cookies, child, and sacks of tea,
cigar bands and glinting, dimestore lockers.
TI NGH? ANH L AI
Ban ?m Ba hy mc h?t nh?ng g trong ti ra.
Cha kha, ti?n xu, ??ng h? b? ti, t?m ?nh
ng?ai hnh c?a M?, v nh?ng chi?c k?o
ng?m mi cam, b? trong ci h?p.
ng n?i ?? nh?ng ??ng b?c trong ti qu?n di
nh?ng li?u n??c m?i ?ng ??c trn bn gi?y,
v c?c x bng Castile, T?t c? cn nguyn. i,
nh?ng chi?c bnh ng?t liu hnh b?u d?c cho k? th?c s?m!
Nh c?a ng b n?i khc v?i nh Ba ti:
nh?ng tay gh? x pha ???c ph? ??ng ten trang nh
ng c c kho v?i h??ng li?u g?ng v h?t d??
Phi?u b?t gi trong h?p bnh bch qui. Nhn th?t xay,
Bnh ng? c?c Cream of Wheat h?p v chu?i chn,
ly n??c Tri cy v?i chi?c nn gi?y nh?
nh?ng l? m?t ?i trn mi?ng ??m lt b?ng nh?a trn bn.
Chng ta l con chu v nh?n bnh thnh c?a Ba v ng b n?i.
Ti th?y c? hai. Ti th?y nh?ng g trong ti Ba.
Nh?ng ??ng c?c c?a Ba, c?a ng b n?i? Ci g cho con?
Nh?ng chi?c bnh bch qui r?i may, ??a tr?, v nh?ng b? tr
nh?ng b?ng x g v t? ??ng ?? l?p lnh r? ti?n.
DEADWOOD DICK
Come on and slant your eyes again, O Buffalo Bill.
Carl Sandburg
Colored cowboy named Nat Love,
They called him Deadwood Dick.
A black thatch of snakes for hair,
Closed-mouthed. Bullet-hipped.
One knee bent like his rifle butt,
Just so. Rope. Saddle. Fringe.
Knock this white boy off my shoulder.
Stone-jawed, cheekboned man.
Mama, there are black cowboys.
A fistful of black crotch.
Deadwood Dick: Dont fuck with me.
Black cowboy. Leather hat.
DEADWOOD DICK
C? ln v li?c m?t l?n n?a, i Buffalo Bill
Carl Sandburg
Cao b?i ?en tn Nat Love,
Chng g?i h?n l Deadwood Dick.
Tc qu?n ?en nh? r?n,
Mi?ng mm ch?t. Cm nhom
M?t ??u g?i cong nh? bng sng,
?ng th?. Dy th?ng. Yn ng?a. Vi?n tua.
Ch?i ch?t g tr?ng ny ?i
Hm tr?. G m cao.
M, c nh?ng cao b?i ?en.
M?t nhm ng??i ?en.
Deadwood Dick: ??ng ki?m chuy?n v?i tao.
Cao b?i ?en. M? da.
*Deadwood Dick, m?t nhn v?t ti?u thuy?t c?a tc gi? Edward Lytton Wheeler (1854 – 1885). Cn Nat Love (1854 – 1921), m?t cao b?i da ?en M?.
——–
*Elizabeth Alexander (b. 1962) published her first collection of poems, The Venus Hattentot, in 1990. She was educated at Yale and Boston University, where she studied with Derek Walcott. More of her work has appeared in The Southern Review and other periodicals, and she has taught at the University of Chicago since 1991.
* Elizabeth Alexander (sinh ra n?m 1962), t?p th? ??u tin c?a b, The Venus Hattentot, ???c in vo n?m 1990. B ? theo h?c t?i ??i h?c Yale v Boston, cng v?i nh th? Derek Walcott. Nh?ng tc ph?m khc c?a b xu?t hi?n trn t?p ch t?ng k? Southern Review v cc t?p ch t?ng k? khc. B d?y t?i ??i h?c Chicago t? n?m 1991.
Bruce Bawer
ON LEAVING THE ARTISTS COLONY
The way love rests upon coincidence,
the way a sense of family and home
can flow now, like a stream, through several hearts
transplanted from their diverse native climes
by strangers choices, violates all sense.
If we had all been here at different time
I know wed have formed other loyalties,
drawn other eyes and written other poems,
and I know there are friendship Id have made
with people whom I now may never meet.
But so be it. Heard melodies are sweet,
and unheard melodies are never played
except on the harmonium of art.
This place we love reminds us how immense
the world is, and how small our cherished part,
and why we feel drawn on toward mysteries,
compelled to paint and sculpt, compose and write.
To think of those wholl be here three months hence,
wholl fell just as we do, and find it hard
believing that emotions so intense
can be so commonplace, is to regard
those mysteries as if with second sight.
It is to sense an elemental rhyme
of soul and soul, to feed a river flow
between our hearts and those well never know.
R?I KH?I H?I NGH? S?
???ng tnh d?a vo s? ng?u nhin v ???ng nh?n
bi?t v? gia ?nh nh ? c th? tun ch?y
nh? m?t dng su?i qua vi t?m lng di chuy?n
t? nh?ng n?i ch?n sinh qun ?a d?ng b?i ch?n
l?a c?a ng??i xa l?, vi ph?m m?i nh?n bi?t
tr tu?. N?u t?t c? chng ta ? ? ?y
vo nh?ng th?i ?i?m khc nhau t?o thnh nh?ng cam
k?t khc nhau v? nh?ng ?i m?t khc vi?t nh?ng
bi th? khc v ti bi?t nh?ng tnh b?n ti
? c v?i nh?ng ng??i ti ch?a m?t l?n g?p
m?t. Ch?p nh?n nh? th?. Nghe nh?ng giai ?i?u ng?t
ngo, v khng nghe nh?ng giai ?i?u ch?a m?t l?n
ht ln tr? ra n?i tr t??ng. N?i yu m?n
ny nh?c chng ta th? gi?i bao la lm sao,
nh? b lm sao, ph?n th??ng m?n, v t?i sao, nh?ng
b m?t li cu?n thc ??y chng ta v? tranh,
t?c t??ng, sng tc v vi?t. ?? ngh? v? nh?ng
ng??i s? ? ?y ba thng t? lc ny, ai
s? c?m th?y, v th?y kh tin nh?ng tnh c?m
cu?ng nhi?t c th? qu bnh th??ng, quan tm t?i
b m?t ? nh? th? no v?i t?m nhn l?n
th? hai. ?? ngh? c?m nh?n m?t v?n c? b?n
c?a linh h?n ny t?i linh h?n khc, nui d??ng
m?t dng sng tri gi?a tri tim v nh?ng th?
chng ta s? ch?ng bao gi? bi?t.
THE VIEW FROM AN AIRPLANE AT NIGHT
OVER CALIFORNIA
This is a sight that Wordsworth never knew,
whether looking down from mountain, bridge, or hill:
An endless field of lights, white, orange, and blue,
as small and bright as stars, and nearly still,
but moving slowly, many miles below,
in blackness, as stars crawl across the skies,
and ranked in rows that stars will never know,
like beads strung on a thousand latticed ties.
Would even Wordsworth, seeing what I see,
know that these lights are not well-ordered stars
that have been here a near-eternity,
but houses, streetlamps, factories, and cars?
Or has this slim craft made too high a leap
above it all, and is the dark too deep?
NHN T? PHI C? ?M, TRN CALIFORNIA
?y l c?nh t??ng m Wordsworth ch?a h? bi?t,
d nhn xu?ng t? trn c?u hay ni ??i: m?t
cnh ??ng nh sng v t?n, tr?ng, cam, xanh, nh?
v sng nh? nh?ng v sao, v g?n nh? ph?ng
l?ng, chuy?n ??ng ch?m ch?p, nhi?u d?m pha d??i, trong
t?i ?en, nh? nh?ng v sao ngang qua b?u tr?i,
v k?t thnh hng, nh?ng v sao s? khng bao
gi? nh?n bi?t, gi?ng nh? nh?ng chu?i h?t xu trn
c? ngn dy m?t co. Ngay c? Wordsworth, ?ang
nhn nh?ng g ti nhn, ?u bi?t r?ng nh sng
ny khng ph?i nh?ng v sao ???c s?p ??t ng?n
n?p, ? hi?n di?n ? ?y t? lu, m ch?
l nh?ng ngi nh, ?n ???ng, x??ng my, xe c??
Ho?c c ph?i chi?c my bay ny ? v?t ln
qu cao bn trn, v bng t?i th qu su (bn d??i)?
——-
*Bruce Bawer (born October 31, 1956) is an American writer who has been a resident of Norway since 1999. He is a literary, film, and cultural critic and a novelist and poet, who has also written about gay rights, Christianity, and Islam.
*Bruce Bawer (sinh ngy 31 thng 10 n?m 1956), nh v?n ng??i M?, c? tr t?i Na Uy t? n?m 1999. ng l m?t nh ph bnh v?n h?c, ?i?n ?nh v v?n ha. ng c?ng l nh th?, ti?u thuy?t gia, ? vi?t v? quy?n c?a ng??i ??ng tnh, cc tn gio nh? C? ??c gio, v ??o H?i.
Kh. I
