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P O E T R YThe Lu (1907-1989), a Vietnamese poet who also wrote fiction, was distinguishedfor his introduction of new genres and styles to Vietnamese literature.Yearning for the jungleThe Lu(The voice of a tiger in captivity in a zoo)In the iron cage my heart seething with anger,I lie through long slow months,Despising the gang of addle swaggerersWho through tiny eyes dare to mock the jungle’s majesty.Now fallen and captive, I swallow my prideTo be a curiosity, a toy,An equal to the despicable bears,To the pair of clueless leopards next door.I drag a life filled with longing and loveFor good old days of mighty dominion,In the jungle amidst huge old shade trees,Mighty howling winds, and thundering falls,Roaring my epic and powerful roar,I strutted in commanding steps sure and proud,My rhythmic wave-like body strong and stout,Stalking silent ‘mongst brambles and sharp grass.In dark caves once I flashed my awesome eyesAll life lay quiet holding its hushed breath.I basked in smugness, king of all creatures,Roaming amidst the nameless plants and trees.Now where are those moonlit nights by the streamWhen hearty dinner done I savoured the moonlight?Where are those rainstorms that shook the jungle domainWhen I quietly surveyed my revived kingdom?Where are those daybreaks that bathed the lush treesAnd birdsongs that riotously awakened me?Where the blood-red rays that drowned the jungleWhen I couldn’t wait for the hot sun to dieSo I could seize its secret for myself.— Oh, where have they all gone, those glory days?I smother my deep perpetual angerHating the things that never ever change,The spaces that were deceitfully built,With tended blooms, mown grass, straight paths, grown trees,A dark trickle that passed as forest streamsLurking ‘mongst phony low-lying hillocksWith docile foliage shorn of mystery,Faking so miserably the wildernessAnd its eternal life’s solemnity.O noble proud land of majestyWhere my valiant kind always holds firm sway,The vast realm that I used to rule over,Country that I will never see again!Did you know in my days of dark despairI still nurture lofty grandiose dreamsIn my soul of being in your midst again,O my dear old awesome jungle domain?Translated by Thomas D LeTHIRD WORLD RESURGENCE No 255/25672

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