A Call To The Wandering Souls Poem by Phan Thanh gian

On this auspicious occasion
Fifteenth day of the seventh lunar month
Let us pray for the world
To alleviate the sufferings
Of our dear departed souls

Let us share our offerings
To the wandering damned ghosts
Cold and hungry they roam
Languishing between the realms
Of the living and the dead

Among the top of the pine trees,
Near the ravines and creeks
They look for their loved ones
Due to sudden, violent departure
Crashed from the sky, drown in deep seas

Among the sandy fields
In a ditch, shallow graves
They died without proper burial
In wars, remains torn to bits
By shrapnel, by hell's fire

Among the newborn infants
Only they couldn't last a few months
From their frail constitution
Born with deadly diseases
Perished as soft bundle of short-lived tissues

Among the countless commuters
Some never made it home
Crushed between the wreckage
Stuck in the road's carnage
Their last breath drawn quickly

Among the office cubicles
In the thick of the hectic world
Their heart couldn't help but gave up
Arteries blocked, they croaked in pain
Life in full swing suddenly no more

Among the unruly gangs
Some paid dearly for their deeds
In the alleys, in darkness
Without anyone's aid
One of the many things they've lost is their life

Most had no thoughts
Of the last words to their dearest
Many still try to cling on
Hoping to be resuscitated
But alas, it's too late

Let's pray for the enlightenment
For all the wandering souls
So that they would soon rest
In everlasting peace
Among the realm of the blissful void.

(Based on Nguyen Du's 'A Call to Wandering Souls')