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Showing posts with label Poetry Collection. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Poetry Collection. Show all posts

A Petit sound - Âm thanh nhỏ

A spoken poetry and singing songs by poetry and music lovers.
Who want to read your poem(s)/sing your song please let us know so we can arrange the time and program. Thanks!

Một đêm đọc thơ và hát những bản phổ nhạc của những người yêu thơ và yêu nhạc.
Các bạn muốn tham gia đọc thơ/hát hãy thông báo trước cho BTC để BTC lên chương trình nhé! Xin cảm ơn!


Ho Chi Minh City, Vietnam

Sundays @ 12 noon - Chủ nhật @ 12 giờ trưa

Sundays @ 12 noon - Chủ nhật @ 12 giờ trưa

English by Susmita Paul

Some nights the elbow stretches straight, running
Over the edge –
A perfect tout feeling at the shoulder
The elbow angled at that perfect degree
Inwards and paused. The palms meet gravity,

Hanging

Half open unlaced mushthi*1. No cribbing
In dreams. I carried the hundred bells threaded to the feet
Half across the globe, and then retraced;
Spaces between them widening, emptying
With the moon-tides. The mirror

Still

Has a say. Hypnosis I dream. It
Tugs and pulls and draws me into
That hall. No one sees, no one feels. Ghost-busting
Is not their call. Only once your eyes

Fall

On the mirror. The bells make a call. Did you feel
The glass quivering? I spread my feet
Across the new floor, unable
To remember the position I take

Ardhamandala
Purnamandala
Sthanaka*2

*1 mushthi is a hand gesture used in Bharatnatyam, an Indian classical dance. It means ‘closed fist’.
*2 ardhamandala, purnamandala and sthanaka are the three different positions of standing in Bharatnatyam.


Tiếng Việt - Bản dịch của Vương Bích Ngọc

đêm cánh tay duỗi thẳng,
trải dài theo chỗ mơ
vai hoàn toàn tê dại
khuỷu tay xếp góc lại
thu vào và nghỉ ngơi.
bàn tay đủ nặng rơi,

treo mình

bàn tay không nắm chặt như mushthi (*).
không ăn năn dằn vặt
trong mơ.
tôi lại mang vào chân dải chuông trăm chiếc
nối nửa địa cầu, tìm dấu
khoảng cách giữa chúng rộng ra mãi, trống rỗng
theo nguyệt triều. chạm mặt tấm gương

vẫn còn

ghi hoài giọng nói. giấc mơ ma mị.
kéo tôi, lôi tôi, lê lết tôi vào
giữa căn phòng. không ai nhìn, không ai cảm thấy.
linh hồn nào hiện hữu
họ chẳng bận tâm. chỉ là đôi mắt tôi vừa

rơi tõm

vào gương. những quả chuông lên tiếng.
người có cảm thấy
màn gương rung động? khi tôi đẩy bàn chân mình
miết trên sàn mới, không thể
nhớ một tư thế nào rõ ràng
cho nổi

Ardhamandala
Purnamandala
Sthanaka * 2

* 1 mushthi là một cử chỉ tay được sử dụng trong Bharatnatyam, điệu múa cổ điển Ấn Độ. Nó có nghĩa là "bàn tay nắm lại".
* 2 ardhamandala, purnamandala và sthanaka là ba tư thế đứng khác nhau trong điệu múa Bharatnatyam.

More

Never

Will it be too late
To fix a wrong thing to right
I did make many mistakes
It took many years of my life...

I once was the naughtiest boy in the class
Who would laugh at the teacher's words
Who would stand up and go out before the bell rings
Who would say "don't know" to a question when all hands are raising...

I once made my girl friend cry after two hours waiting
Just because I didn't find the right way to come in
When her dad looked at me in a way
Which made me feel beating him one day!

I once made my mom went to bed with a headache
When she saw the black mark on her son's face
That day I came home after a fight with a guy
Just because he doesn't know how to cry

I once shouted at my dad
After he quit eating dinner with me and mom for a week
I told him to talk out loud the reasons
He replied me with silence...

I once wanted to kill myself
Just because I don't see anyone around
I asked if it makes any difference
If I disappear forever right now...

After many times asking the same question
I stop seeing it a problem
To fix each mistake I have made
I never think it's too late...


Play Oil on canvas 80cm*100cm

A poem by VBN from NAME | Art Space

It is...

When I fall down in front of me
I pick myself up
When I stand on my own feet
I kick myself down

I stop my mind from thinking
My mind stops me from stopping
I try to focus my mind on something
My mind tries to focus me on other thing

I write down about how I feel
What I write down is no longer how I feel
I delete what I no longer feel
I feel what I just delete

When I read what I read
I think it is not what I think
When it is not what I think
I think about what I didn't think

I answer a question
Then the question is no more a question
When it is no more a question
It doesn't need my answer

Now I see I get stuck
At a place I know so well
It is clearly to me that
I don't know my own next step...

a poem by VBN from NAME | Art Space

Violet

I think there is hardly any other You asked if I wrote
I didn’t want to put this down
As I know it would be violet
The color of the forget-me-not
The kind of flower I plan to put on my tomb
The day I come home

Who would bring flower
To their death
Right before
They leave
But I
Have the forget-me-not
Only some minutes
Before entering the road

I am ready to feel my knees
Scratch on the road
At this speed
I am not sure if I can fly
I am sure I am flying
And it would set free
My soul from my body

People would find me: “Bleeding, breathless…”
“Holding the flower… in violet…”

A poem by VBN from NAME | Art Space

Romantic Multimedia Poetry Collections at NAME | Art Space

NAME | Art Space - Artist Residency - Vietnam is happy to introduce our romantic idea of making a Multimedia Poetry Collection with the participation of 3 lovely poets and 1 lovely video artist and one charming sound artist. Details will be updated soon...

The fun part is one Indian, one Korean, one US, one Vietnamese... Ya, NAME | Art Space - Artist Residency - Vietnam loves people from around the world...