Poems by Khuong Thi Men

Επιμέλεια: Εύα Πετροπούλου Λιανού

Khuong Thi Men: Born in 1979. Hometown: Vinh Khuc-Van Giang-Hung Yen

Published books:
1. Poetry collection: Leaning sunshine in the moon season – Writers’ Association Publishing House 2015
2. Poetry collection: Thirsty Wind – Writers’ Association Publishing House 2020
Literary Prizes:
1. Fourth Pho Hien Prize: Consolation prize “Leaning sunshine in the moon season”
2. Fifth Pho Hien Prize: Second prize (no first prize) “Thirsty Wind”
Concept of poetry: To express the voice in heart, poetry takes root and saves the life.

Autumn in Nguyet Ho

That is a yellow butterfly.
Don’t pour over the scent of honey
The sky is filled with fresh milkwood pines.

Nguyet Ho autumn!
Cup of fragrant tea, willow hair
The drops of your poetry sparkle with yellow silk
Chrysanthemum gently carries the season down the street
I’m already autumn but still feeling lost in a lasting rainy season

The fertile lullaby is as red as betel
To fall down sad words of pebbles
Autumn cold breeze falls on you_ white night
Nostalgic mist is tossing and turning the Red River sleep

Looking at the end of the road, heard the leaves to call for winter
Endless yellow in all grounded afternoon

Regretted a time of infatuation
Hong Chau lotus withered and drooped folk songs
The moon fell asleep in red plastron of afternoon nap
Shoulders of Xuan Quan township filled with the scent of flowers

I am fragile like the mist of Nguyet Ho
Wind in a day of tangled hair
Yellow chrysanthemum burned hurrily in my poem
“The end of the game, pebbles settle back to the source”

For you and for me

Just hug me gently
The wind flows around yellow chrysanthemums
December has passed and winter is still numb cold
Sleeping cheerfully

Vaguely sails suck the moon
At the bottome of waves are peaceful
The shallow and deep sea is with the life

Dresses in March – flowers blooming all the sky
I call you: soulmate lover
A spicy betel fate costs three Dong a bunch
Poetic love leaves me and leaves markets
Human love is arduous and hardship
Your love is a floating cloud
Fate placed me – a woman who writes poetry to beg your heart
I teach myself the silence in afternoon slope and strong wind
If only…
Hidden corners of couples are like rain-storms
I will boil and make tea for you every morning.

The poem for us

You are the picture of gray pebbles
I’m cold in March, lasting rain in July
Let the rain fall between us
Let fulfill the love word in afternoon with white clouds
To pick up areca flowers for a passionately proposal ceremony
Suddenly to see
Night eyes are like a river in flood season
The Evening Star is near, the Cross Star is far
When a mistletoe branch is still green
in front of our grapefruit tree
I write a two-way poem: spicy ginger and salty
There is an upstream nostalgia
There is a love waiting for the reunion day
The Galaxy, Nguu couple are separated
There is O Thuoc bridge across…
I searched in the depths of time in a thousand years of full moon and crescent moon
Is your love still passionate?
I’m busy looking for waves that covering dense forests
Missed calls, unfinished messages
In my half, birds sing in early morning…

A dream towards the sun

To turn on the phone
Email without message
Facebook is silent with only your avatar
An artist has his face of faith
To send me a wind kiss
I keep it in my deep heart
One day
My nostalgia turned into a love poem sending a wind kiss
Love without makeup
Love was written from so sad monosyllabic words
You said my poetry as gentle as my personality
Lack of thorniness and boldness…

I turned a heart teardrop-shaped muse
And renewed her into an elegant and modern one
To wait for the artist to bring a wind kiss
To take my dream towards the sun…
Your breath passionate dream broke its wing
The poet is mistaking
The muse is emotional entanglement
Your dream towards the sun…

April appointment

My promise when the lilies burst with awaked wine yeasts
luxurious, pure to the point of bewilderment
to light the sunshine rays across a bridge
to welcome April for anchoring.
An April gift is the white chinaberry flower path
tiny, pretty and fragrant on my wrists.
sounds of wagtails chirp in an early summer shower.
my face is a metaphor for two seasons

A little April love
calls for the love area to knock on the door
village festival wharf – Banh troi ceremony – a five-colored traditional toy
rush in a tired sleep

April, incense at the door of monastery
a psychiclady shadow staggered
god gave birth to me on the swing April Fool’s Day…
The body in April is as warm as the man I love
Brightening the vitality of summer.