Phan Thanh gian
Phan Thanh gian Poems
|82.||My Last Twenty||8/18/2006|
|84.||Je Veux Savourer La Lune||10/28/2009|
|85.||Life Is A Beach...||9/9/2008|
|86.||My Dearest Son, When You Grow Up...||1/10/2009|
|88.||Spring Of Autumn (In High Park)||4/20/2005|
|89.||Courage My Friends, Courage...||5/1/2010|
|90.||Et Si Je L'Embrasse...||8/8/2009|
Comments about Phan Thanh gian
Let's talk about the cannibals:
Not the naked ones with colourful wigs,
Who eat and drink the human flesh and blood
Not the ones we learned in textbooks
Whose tales you heard from far away land
In the deepest of south-east-asian jungles
Such exotic, barbaric acts are so trivial
Benign and confined to a few old tribes
Wouldn't even measure up to more sordid types
I'm talking about the man-eaters living closeby,
Who reside in the grandest of mansions,
Nestled among the greatest of nations
They read the finest books,
Extol the most ...
'Five for two dollars, two for one! '
Yelled the ones in straw hat
Men, women: aged, riped as the vegetables they sell
Wilted, weathered, leathery, tanned melon skin.
Twenty five below in February, well or sick,
Sunday, Easter, Christmas: everyday they toiled
By their stands at the street corner, they always stood.
'Lettuce, chilli pepper, spearmint! '