Poem To The Editor — Vietnam

Sir—In a moment of acute sadness I wrote this poem. You might not think it a proper poem. However, that is what I felt about the war in our country. I would appreciate your service if you would publish it in Salient so that my Vietnamese and Kiwi friends can have some idea about Vietnam of the present.

A Scene Of Life

Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!
All over the country
The people welcome each other with cannon and machine gun fire.
Thousands of Vietnamese have died in agony Days and nights
In the jungles, up the mountains, down the valleys, on the rivers.
Everywhere the country is dyed with black smoke and red blood.
How many old mothers have become blind
Through weeping for their unfortunate sons
Who have passed away somewhere in the countryside
When they were still in the spring of their lives?
Innumerable married women are spending night after night in loneliness.
Wondering "what has become of him out there this time?"
And who feel their hearts tighten with sadness every time
Their innocent child asks them softly "Mummy.
Where is daddy?"
Many children cannot enjoy their childhood joy
Taking no more interest in play or in toys
When they see their mothers toiling alone to bring them comfort and joy
With their worried and skinny faces over the soil.
Where can I again find the peaceful life?
No more fresh morning air!
No more green valleys!
No more blue sky over there!
Nothing but a sky with black smoke and paddy fields fertilised with dead bodies
And soldiers with their eyes flaming with hatred and spite! for their very own people of the same country!
The whole people have been suffering.
And living in horror, sadness and despair
In the morning, in the evening, day and night.
Their future becomes dark as gunpowder smoke,
And their destiny uncertain as a small boat
Drifting away helplessly on the sea
On a dull stormy winter day.
Should I cry for this futile life
Without future, without meaning?
Or should I sigh and mourn over this war all the times?
No, sighing and mourning is cowardly.
Should I smile happily at this life
With nothing but sadness and sorrow
As cold as snow over the mountain top?
No. I would commit a great crime
To rejoice over the sorrows of my people's lives.
Let me live and struggle without complaint
In spite of life's incessant pain.
And let me not live in misery but in hope that the sun will shine
Some day, some time
After the long dark horrible night.

Le Nguyen