Ông Ðồ

Mỗi năm hoa đao nở

Lại thấy ông đồ già
Bày mực tầu giấy đỏ
Bên phố đông nguời qua.
Bao nhiêu nguời thuê viết
Tấm tắc ngợi khen tài
Hoa tay thảo những nét
Nhu phuợng múa rồng bay!
Nhung mỗi năm mỗi vắng
Nguời thuê viết nay đâu
Giấy đỏ buồn không thắm
Mực đọng trong nghiên sầu!
Ông đồ vẫn ngồi đấy
Qua đuờng không ai hay
Lá vàng roi trên giấy
Ngoài trời mua bụi bay.
Năm nay đao lại nở
Không thấy ông đồ xua
Những nguời muôn năm cu
Hồn ở đâu bây giờ?

Vu Đinh Liên (1936)

Translated by Thomas D. Le
12 January 2005

The Calligrapher

Just as the pink cherry blossomed each year

The old scholar was sure to reappear
With China ink and red paper in scrolls
Amidst the swelling crowds that surged and rolled.
So many people paid him handsomely
For his talent that they admired dearly,
The flourishes of his accomplished hand
That wrought dragons and phoenixes on end.
Each passing year saw fewer people come.
Where were they all who paid him so handsome?
Now his paper had lost its crimson red,
His ink dried out in its sad forlorn bed.
At his old place sat the calligrapher
Amidst the hustling crowds without a stir.
Some yellow leaves fell dead on his paper,
And from above drizzle flew in a whir.
This year the cherry blooms light pink again;
The old scholar is found nowhere in vain.
Of all those people lived in days of yore
Where are they now, where'er forevermore?

Word for Word Translation

Mỗi năm hoa đao nở Lại thấy ông đồ già
Each year flower peach bloom back see he map old
m
Bày mực tầu giấy đỏ Bên phố đông nguời qua
display ink ship paper red party city east people through

Bao nhiêu thuê viết Tấm tắc ngợi khen tài Hoa
switch praise commen financial united
how much to write plates d

tay thảo những nét Nhu phuợng múa rồng bay Nhun
g

hand Worksh the definitio

as phoenix dance dragon fly but
-op n
e
mỗi vắng thuê viết nay đâu buồn không thắm Mực
each absence rent articles now where sad not petal toner

đọng trong nghiên sầu vẫn ngồi đấy đuờng không ai

depositio research
n in grief still sat it sugar not who

hay Lá vàng roi trên Ngoài trời mua bụi đao

or leaves yello fall on apart sky rain dust
w
training

lại nở Không
again bloom no
thấy xua Những
see old the
muôn cu Hồn
want old soul
ở đâu bây
in where now
giờ

Translation by Hong Chung, 2010

He, Who Wrote On Scarlet Paper

Each year, the petals of the cherry blossoms opened

The Wise man was to return once more
With a bundle of black ink and scarlet parchment
In the bustling village- bursting with people.
They financed his work generously,
His trade, the object of awe and praise
The precision of his hands!
Dragons and Phoenixes took flight from
The command of his fingers.

But the years increased

And the people dwindled.

Where were the devotees of his art?

The vibrancy of the scarlet parchment

Dissipated.
The flowing ink from his fountain pen
Lost its fluidity in grief.
The old man sat down
With not a who or what in sight.
Yellow leaves cascaded down his scrolls.
Droplets descended from the sky.

The petals of the cherry blossoms once more bloomed

In the absence of the old man.
The villagers continued to live and age.
Where are they now?