Poetry Corner

I’ll blow out those red candles and observe

my birthday wandering in America.

Though quickly spring slips by, let me rejoice;

time-stained, I’ve earned another year of age.

Here linger still two streams of candle tears;

they grieve and mourn that youth has inched away.

Mountains and oceans sunder me in twain;

half of my soul yet clings to my poor land.

And when I gaze toward it, my people seem

outside the window flitting past like leaves.

Condemned to roll amidst the dust, I miss

those left behind, long for my hills and streams.

I am a bird who’s fled its crimson cage;

wing-worn, it flies toward shores still lost in mists.

From my own people, shadows so remote,

sad echoes of their whispers come at night.

Another birthday far away from home;

much farther yet I’ve strayed from native roots.

But on some happy day I’ll be back there;

awash with love, I’ll celebrate my birth.

(Silver Spring, Sept. 6, 1981)

Vinh Liem