Ho Xuan Huong

Praise whoever raised these polesfor some to swing while others watch
A boy pumps, then arcs his back
The shapely girl shoves up her hips
Four pink trousers flapping hard,two pairs of legs stretched side by side

Peekaboo we used to play;my hands covered my face,your hands covered your face,incredible, there we were gone
That is what we play now, yourhands on my face and my handson your eyes
Incrediblehow we disappear into each other

I am like a jackfruit on the tree
To taste you must plug me quick, while fresh:the skin rough, the pulp thick, yes,but oh,
I warn you against touching —the rich juice will gush and stain your
Translated by Nguyen Ngoc Bich

If you want to pick flowers, you have to hike
Climbing up, don't worry about your weary bones
Pluck the low branches, pull down the high
Enjoy alike the spent blossoms, the tight buds

Where are you going, my dear little greenhorns
Here,
I'll teach you how to turn a verse or two Young drones sucking at withered flowers,
Little goats brushing horns against a fence

A cliff face
Another
And still a third
Who was so skilled to carve this craggy scene:the cavern's red door, the ridge's narrow cleft,the black knoll bearded with little mosses

Heaven and earth brought forth this rocky massits face cut by a deep crevassecrack's dark mouth shagged with mosspines rocking in wind rush
Here sweet water spatters downand the path into the cleft is dark
Praise whoever sculpted stoneth...