Coincidence is a surprising thing and sometimes very
beautiful.
Nearly three years ago, I found myself wandering around the
online pages of a scholar and translator of Vietnamese and French poetry; one
Thomas L. Le. I was so moved by one of the poems that it inspired a small
painting of a Hoi An fisherman skilfully riding the surf in his basket boat as
he brought his small catch back to the girl waiting on the beach to take it to
market. I wrote some lines from the poem
directly onto the painting and it was quickly sold at my Hoi An Exhibition in
May 2014. The poem was by Xuan Dieu but being new to Vietnam, I found it
difficult to commit the name to memory.
Some months later, I found myself living on Xuan Dieu in
Hanoi. More recently, I found myself in a specialist printing shop on Xuan Dieu
in Ho Chi Minh City, Q5 and I thought ‘there’s that name again’. I realised
that this is no ordinary poet.
I discovered that Xuan Dieu was born and died in exactly the
same years as my own father (1916-1985). Had my father lived, he would be 100
years old this month ( May 2016) So I could immediately identify with this poet
and compare his life with that of my own father. Xuan Dieu was coming to life
in my imagination.
The poet had started writing while at university in Hanoi
and over a lifetime contributed around 450 poems, short stories, diaries and
essays as part of the Modern Poetry Movement which took off in the 1930s. Under
the influence of western education introduced by the French, Vietnam was
emerging from a highly structured Confucian, family centred culture to become
more individualistic and expressive. The Modern Poetry movement gave voice to
the discomforts of this transition. I expect that these poets were viewed with
equal disdain as Rock ‘n Roll, Punk Rock and Hip Hop artists were by their
parents’ generation. Now, of course, many of the early movers and shakers of
modern music have been honoured by their governments and they will be revered
by generations to come. Xuan Dieu’s poetry will live on and his words are just
as poignant and relevant now as they were in his day.
The Sea
I don't deserve to be the ocean blue
But
I want thee to be the white beach sand
The
sandy beach stretching calmly its hue
Under
the crystal sun
The comely beach of
yellow sand There’s
times when I would fain surge in
Extending to the
rows of pine As
if to crush thy edges dear
So dreamily and
quietly It’s
when my billows roar passion
For eons by the
roaring brine To
drown thee is ceaseless love sheer
Let me be the
clear turquoise swells I
don’t deserve to be the ocean blue
That kiss
ceaseless thy yellow sand But
want to be the turquoise sea
The gentle kiss
that often dwells To
sing eternal songs by thee
The quiet kiss
that has no end In
endless love for thee dear true
I will kiss thee
again, again So
when the foam comes boiling white
From here clear to
eternity And
wind gusts in from everywhere
Till none of this
wide world remains Insatiably
I will kiss with might
Before my heat can
beat calmly Cause
I love so thy sand edge bare.
