Reading poetry translated from Vietnamese languages is a thrill. There is an experimentation and fluidity that resembles ‘weaving water and heaven’, as Hồ Xuân Hương writes in My Ngoc To’s translation, in a series of poems not to be missed in this issue. Đỗ Quyên and Camellia Pham’s translation in this edition, of Lưu Quang Vũ’s ode to the Vietnamese language, rouses a reverence for its continuance. In Quyên Nguyễn-Hoàng’s translation of Hàn Mặc Tử, there is mention of ‘measureless melodies’, which seems apt for Vietnamese as a tonal language of richness and complexity.
A Focus on Vietnam does not mean we are signifying a discrete national canon (especially as we as MPT staff are not Vietnamese). As Sana Goyal writes in her review for this issue, national canons ‘inherently and essentially exclude as much as they include’. Rather, this is an issue that attempts to create a sampling of poetry from Vietnam, both classical and contemporary, to indicate that there is a vast body of work by the writers within, and many more besides, for all to explore further. (Each entry emphasises that the translations here are from Vietnamese, to underscore that Vietnam and the Vietnamese diaspora are a multilingual space, including such languages as Ho Chi Minh City Sign Language, Hanoi Sign Language, and Haiphong Sign Language. There are various literatures to explore.)
A remarkable number of poems here pay particular attention to interiorities and femininities, whether the unspooling spiritual prose poetry of ‘Astral Gold’—by Chế Lan Viên, and translated with incredible artistry by Nguyễn Lâm Thảo Thi—or the interweaving of individual domestic lives with geopolitical violences past, as in Dương Quỳnh Anh’s work, translated here by Đinh Tuấn Nghĩa.
We find Nhã Thuyên’s fluid dreamscape imploring us ‘don’t hide the madness’, in Kaitlin Rees’ translation, as well as her essay on the survival of Vietnamese language in the face of various ages of colonisation. There are two very different translations of Hàn Mặc Tử—whose poetry, coincidentally, inspired illustrator Tea Nguyen’s cover—by both N.T. Anh and Quyên Nguyễn-Hoàng. We are also pleased to present self-translations, by Quyên Nguyễn-Hoàng and Hiền Trang, evincing a unique intimacy with the original verse. There is so much more stunning work in this Focus.
Ultimately, the theme’s stance is for Vietnamese poets and/or translators to represent themselves in their own words. And for others to be in solidarity with, as Quyên Nguyễn-Hoàng wrote to MPT:
‘the rich histories and affective modes of the Vietnamese literary consciousness, from the 20th century to our present moment now, in a way that deepens readers’ understanding of Vietnam as its own locus of meaning-making, instead of a peripheral margin perpetually shaped by Western assumptions and expectations of certain Vietnamese tropes.’
Vietnamese poems aside, there are several treats from competition winners: We are delighted to include an interview Ali Al-Jamri conducted with Najwan Darwish and Kareem James Abu-Zeid on their collaborative relationship, in light of their Sarah Maguire Prize win (excerpted here and published in full on our website). Also, Jonathan Bastable’s Stephen Spender Prize-winning translation of Joseph Brodsky’s ‘Brighton Rock’, and Kexin Huang’s poem translating the meaning of her name, winning the MPT and Young Poets Network’s Challenge. Coincidentally, Dzifa Benson’s poem on ahanonko takes on the latter challenge of name translation to great effect.
We have included work that addresses grim histories and presents, from César Dávila Andrade and Fabio Franzin, translated by Jonathan Simkins and André Naffis-Sahely respectively. Then, poems that encapsulate the odd shimmer of ephemeral times, in Brian Sneeden’s translation of Phoebe Giannisi and Halina Maria Boniszewska’s translation of Barbara Gruszka-Zych.
There is something special to be gained by reading and re-reading all these and more. We are as ever incredibly thankful to all contributors, readers, and subscribers; I am continually grateful to Ed, Sarah, Debbie, and our wonderful new Creative Apprentice Chloe Elliott, taking the place of the excellent Dom Green. Please enjoy these melodies.
– Khairani Barokka
