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Prompt: Interpreting 2 stanzas from 'Old Man' by Vũ Đình Liên
Sample commentary on 2 stanzas from the poem 'Old Man'
Response:
This is the second part of the poem 'Old Man' by Vũ Đình Liên, a masterpiece of quintessential pentameter in the pre-1945 New Poetry movement. The poetic imagery and melancholic tone seep into the soul.
Years have passed. Where are the radiant springs? Where are the bustling days, vibrant along the streets, when the old man 'Flowers from hand remove lines - Like phoenixes dancing dragons'? Where is the echo of a glorious past, 'How many hired writers - Lavishly praise talent'? Contrasted with a lonely, desolate present. Questions rise slowly like a weary sigh. Bitterness for the changes of the world, for the coldness of people. The flow of time drifts sadly, becoming more and more desolate:
'But every year grows emptier
Where are the hired writers now?'
Vũ Đình Liên employs objects to depict the turmoil of humanity, the recurring anguish:
'Red paper mourns without hue;
Ink pooled within pens mourns'...
'Red paper' for the pain of a person that has faded, the sadness not vivid anymore. The once fragrant ink, reminiscent of Chinese ink, now becomes 'pens of sorrow,' pitiful; the ink has dried, died, pooled back in a painful manner. Red paper, ink pens anthropomorphized to vividly portray the lonely sorrow of a talented but unfortunate group in a realm of fallen aspirations, the era 'A gold nugget for what Confucian writing' - when Chinese characters have fallen!
Successive seasons of peach blossoms pass by... Amidst a chilly, lush space, only the figure of a pitiful old man remains starkly evident:
'The old man still sits there
Through the streets, no one knows'.
The three words 'still sits here' depict an unmoving, apathetic figure. Forgotten in the hearts of people and in the stream of life, who else cares for the old man: 'Through the streets, no one knows'! The essence of the verse is a bitter, poignant sorrow!
The poem 'Dong Market' by Tam nguyên Yên Đổ captures the many scenes of hardship in the Tet market of the rural village in the early years of the previous century. People returning from the market, weary, disheveled in a space 'Still chilly with lingering rain and dust', only hearing a raw, extreme sadness:
'Stalls closing, people leaving, the air heavy with despair,
Debts and loans, year's end, chaotic inquiries.'
Once again, we encounter the dust rain in the poem 'old man'. A present existence worthy of sadness and pity, poignant and mournful:
'Yellow leaves fall upon paper;
Outside, dust rain flies...
How can red paper covered with yellow leaves not feel 'mourn without hue'? The withered yellow of fallen leaves, the last cold dust rain of late winter, seeming to obscure the heavens and earth, causing heartache and numbness in people. 'Yellow leaves', 'dust rain flies' are two symbolic images of a decline leaving much sympathy. The figure of the old man, motionless like an ancient statue, fades, blurs against the 'gold' of fallen leaves, in the hazy white, the dim white of the 'flying dust rain' of late winter.
Poetry always leaves something lingering in people's hearts. The sense of compassion and sorrow is the humanity, the essence of this verse that lingers in our souls. The poetic image carries such profound and evocative symbolic meaning. We pity the old man, pity a talented group of people, mourn the traditional Confucian culture of our homeland that has declined. The old man's pensiveness continues to haunt us.
