Top 10 Best Poems by the Poet Trần Dần

My dear!
Who led the house to grow nine roofs?
Silk soaked in nine vats
The mulberry green, the field ripe
The silkworms collapse – nine trays
Who led the door to the nine reinforced bars?
The road home is lit by nine paths
The letters travel through nine alleys...
The garden waits with nine gates
Expecting – nine nights

Who led the pond with nine lotus leaves?
The boat rows nine strokes
The night singers run nine people
The horn calls out in nine directions
We meet each other in nine evenings
The factory sends out nine chimneys
Nine people – searching for letters

Who led the nine intersections?
Delaying for nine minutes
Who led the nine wet glass panes?
The leaves outside are torn
Nine winds blocked
Nine strings snapped
Nine chrysanthemums – broken
Nine sheets of paper – thrown
Nine deep thoughts – painful
Nine pieces – disturbed
Nine shards of glass – cracked
Nine lights – awake
Nine raindrops – choked
Nine buttons – tight
Nine vases – cracked
Nine letters – lost
Nine pages – ink blurred

Who led the nine rainy paths at night?
The factory works on nine shifts
The lim bridge with nine steps
The boat cannot arrive in time
The nine river mouths close
Misdelivered nine postcards
The house grows cold, nine kitchens
The old room – the rain stops
The piano keys miss nine notes
We meet nine times, yet lost

Who led?
Who led the nine winding streets?
Blocking nine sections of the train
I'm leaving early, passing through nine towns
The rain pours over nine districts
The lights are late, nine lamps
I'm searching through nine factories
Nine letters remain unclaimed
I return through nine alleys, stained
Nine smoke trails swirl
The inn has nine mirrors
Through nine parks covered in mist
I arrive at nine hotels
Nine gray streets
Nine deserted intersections
Across the house nine times
I come back feeling regret
I return silent
Persistent rain – nine nights...

Oh my dear!
Who led?
Who led the nine-story hotel?
The stairs have nine steps
The building rises with nine roofs
The door turns in nine corners
I climb nine floors
The corridor has nine pillars
Nine lights lit
Nine rooms lost
Partition screens with nine panels
Sleeping pills in nine cups
The dead carried away in nine bodies
Nine ambulances cry

I return to the top floor
Lost at nine corners
The door shuts with nine locks
Nine maids waiting in the room
The elevator is stuck at nine
I sit in silence
The rain taps on the roof
Nine fuses burn out
Nine dice are missing
I sit without playing music
Live without any tunes
The piano is silent with nine notes
Nine needles make me faint
Nine cigarettes burn
Nine books unread
Nine letters lost
Nine address books torn
Nine phone wires cut
The hotel with nine floors
The rain beats the nine sections
I sit silently
I sit regretfully
Endless rain – lost letters
My dear!
My dear!

Letters!... Letters!... Letters!... Letters!...

The address is marked – wet from rain
Nine times – the letter lost in the rain...

I wish for everyone
May no ashes of cold dust rise from every roof
And may yesterday not be left behind in the corners of our homes

May we not harbor in our hearts
The mummified remains of the past
With their strong stench of the old world.

This poem was collected and published by People's Artist Trần Trọng Văn.

Source: Vietnam Writers' Association website, dated January 26, 2013.

I walk through the park
The energy of words: sparking emotions
Creating love, stirring affection, spreading passion.

You walk through the park
As my eyes wander aimlessly
If not distracted by the gaze
Perhaps you are truly beautiful!

Poem collected and published by Artist Trần Trọng Văn.

Source: Vietnam Writers' Association website, January 26, 2013

To give to those in despair

On nights without the moon or stars
On days where the sun doesn't shine
For those who struggle
For the long storms and rains
For eyes sunk in sorrow
For hands reaching out
For moments lost in darkness
For lives without light.

Oh my love
Through these trials of rain and wind
When it feels like all that's left is death
Let's hold on to a single ray of hope
Just one
To endure and love again.

Source: Trần Dần, poetry, NXB Đà Nẵng and Nhã Nam Publishing, 2008

The rain falls with a sorrowful sigh
The streets are bare, drenched in rain
Water sways, rippling on every surface
The lines of rain clearly marked.

You walk through the rain
Quietly, the scent of green tea rain
Your eyes bright with youth
The rain softly weeping.

You don't weep by choice
With eyes raised, tears fall like rain
Each droplet clear and distinct
The streets lay bare, drenched in rain.

The brightness of youth in your eyes
Water sways, rippling through
Weeping softly - rain
Your footsteps leave scars on the street's red face.

The poem was collected and published by NSƯT Trần Trọng Văn.

Source: Vietnam Writers' Association Website, January 26, 2013

I am not someone of the afternoon
Even though I stand beyond the steep hill.

Don’t define me as an afternoon person
When trains still arrive and depart
A never-ending stream at the universal station.

The Earth’s journey - a brief pause
Just a small segment
In the endless cosmic expedition.

Travelers arrive from every corner
Stars flicker dimly like tiny beans between the station yard
Let’s move, surrounded by the souls of reincarnation

In the cinema of earthly experience.

The poem was collected and published by NSƯT Trần Trọng Văn.

Source: Vietnam Writers' Association Website, January 26, 2013

Is the work an original? Is life merely a copy?
Oh my, it’s always a misinterpretation.

I cry for horizons where no one flies
And cry for those who fly with no horizons.

I cry for horizons - red dust
Where no one resides
No one to cry – the distant clouds.

Carefree like the old days
Staring at a single star
Sad by the threshold.

Keep your eyes full of tears.
Don’t let sorrow stain them with sadness
For the sadness of the universe remains.

1988 - 1989

Can I still sing?
The space is murky now
At the far edge of the universe
As the autumn afternoon stars shine bright.

Can I still sing?
In a map that’s never clean
The Earth’s desert, a silver screen
The film of human shadows at dusk.

Can I still sing?
A path devoid of winds
Wandering lost in the desert
Dust from the library at dusk.

This poem was collected and published by People's Artist Trần Trọng Văn.

Source: Vietnam Writers Association website, January 26, 2013

Outside,
Endless city streets.
Young trees sway gently
The road is plump and full.

The walker at dawn
The morning lacking a month.
Thin moments fleeting by
The sweetness of a pristine street.

Early pho shop lights up
Red-hot coal in the corner.
The morning sounds awake
Sweet - pure - delicate.

You walk - a pine-colored sweater
You walk - puffy cotton, red lining.
The tram chimes through the early streets
A few new houses light up.

This poem was collected and published by People's Artist Trần Trọng Văn.

Source: Vietnam Writers Association website, January 26, 2013

The evening is dark
Familiar rain
Smudged raindrops
Rain marks
The light flickers
Geography fades
The world is cluttered
Without fanfare
Passersby jostle
The wind murmurs
The map is blurry
The local market hums
Success feels small
Heavy smoke fills the air, familiar rain.

This poem was collected and published by People's Artist Trần Trọng Văn.

Source: Vietnam Writers Association website, January 26, 2013