TO MY COUNTRY,
I AM AN IMPOSSIBLE DEBTOR
VU QUANG TAN
My mother gave birth to me
under a thatch cottage where its roof was stubbled by rains,
with clay walls were eaten hollow by wood-borer, showed a broken brick,
with the winds blew through a bamboo window all year round,
a pomelo tree behind the cottage was full of sour fruits,
the elder were scared of being lurked by the children and the servants.
I grew up with the months and the years,
drank water in a barrel of crab leaves,
drank green tea that was kept warm,
with a pot of rice was buried in hot husk,
with a bamboo bed, where I had a sleep in summer nights, in the lullaby of the cicadas,
swam in the river with the color of alluvial, with water-plants and fish and shrimps.
then I went, here and there,
near and far,
later on, I understood the reason why I ate saltily and I talked lispingly.
I didn't imitate people mimicking the voice,
disparaging my country was poor,
where my ancestors lived and loved,
where it became my origins.
all my life, my country gives me a loan without interest
and I am an impossible debtor.
