vhnt, số 61
22 September 1995
Trong số này:
+ 1 - thơ, Ðừng Hò Hẹn, Doãn Mạnh Tiến
+ 2 - thơ, đối thơ Ian Bui & DMT , Phung Truong
+ 3 - nhận định về thơ, Nhân Con Ngựa Gỗ, Lê Ðạt
+ 4 - thơ, Ðôi mắt, Dang Khánh Vân
+ 5 - thơ, Nhớ Về Cố Hương, Thai Nguyen
+ 6 - thơ, Mấy Ai, Quách Đắt Cường
+ 7 - bút ký, Back Home 1995, Lam T. Hy (continue)
bạn mến,
Hôm nay thời tiết trở mùa, đài khí tượng nói có cơn lạnh (cold front) vừa đi qua. Ở trong gió, nghe như có tiếng thở dài của cảnh vật và của thời gian. Không ai níu giữ được thời gian, ngay cả giây phút này - vừa nghĩ đến nó thì nó đã qua mất.
Cụ Nguyễn Du cảm tác bài "Thu Chí", có lẽ cũng trong khung cảnh vắng lặng thế này, của đầu mùa thu:
Cảnh đẹp quanh năm được mấy mùa
Thời gian vun vút cánh chim bay
Dặn ngàn đất khách thân cô độc
Thu đến trên sân lá rụng đầy.
Ngọn gió lay rèm căn gác hẹp
Tiếng còi rúc tuyết, xóm ban mai
Thoi đưa thắm thoắt đầu pha bạc
U uất lòng riêng mãi khó khuây.
(Thu chí của Nguyễn Du,
Chi Ðiền Hoàng Duy Từ dịch)
thân ái,
PCL/vhnt
Các bạn mến,
Vẫn biết rằng
Chữ tình nó chẳng kiêng ai
Dẫu lớn, dẫu nhỏ, dẫu tài, dẫu không
Có kẻ chạy, có người trông
Kẻ chạy bị bắt, người trông mỏi-mòn
Nhưng nếu gặp nhau rồi mà đừng có những lời hẹn- ước yêu-thương, đừng có những chiều bên biển vắng êm-đềm, thì có lẽ...
ÐỪNG HÒ-HẸN
Gặp-gỡ làm chi để bận lòng
Ba-sinh duyên nợ có gì không?
Nẻo về có được cùng chung lối
Giữa chợ đời hai đứa song-song
Lỡ gặp cũng xin đừng hò-hẹn
Xây lầu-đài tình-ái ước mong
Ðể lúc quan-sang ngàn thương nhớ
Người đấy, ta đây, khóc cô-phòng
DMT
21Sep95
* Chú thích của PCL: Anh Phung Truong, anh lộn tên của anh Ian Bui với Phạm Chi Lan rồi (chữ "i" hoa chứ không phải "L"). Lan không phải là tác giả câu đối
"thiên tài vô duyên vô tích sự "
Câu này của anh IAN Bui đăng trên SCV forum. Xin độc giả sửa lại dùm cho anh Phung Truong, và xin cáo lỗi với anh Ian Bùi.
Tôi sẽ sửa lại thành Ian Bui trước khi bỏ vào VHNT archives.
Pham Chi Lan/vhnt
Xin chào Lão Ngoan Ðồng (LND) và các mạng hữu,
Mặc dù rất bận trong lúc này cho nên chưa có dịp đóng góp nhiều vào VHNT nhưng khi đọc qua các câu đối quá hay của LND và chị Lan thì máu "cành nanh" lại nổi lên không kềm chế đuơợc và vì vậy xin được đối lại như sau:
(Chị Lan) Thiên tài vô duyên vô tích sự
(LND) Hồng-nhan hữu phước hữu lương-duyên
(PT) Thất phu hữu phận hữu danh tài
(Chị Lan) Bốn bể bôn-ba bờ bến bỏ
(LND) Ngồi nhà nhàn-nhã nhậu nhâm-nhi
(PT) Tịnh Thất tọa thiền tích thiện tâm
Nhân tiện, tôi muốn vắt tắt viết vài hàng những cảm nghĩ của tôi về VHNT:
- Rất thích lối trình bày rõ ràng, gọn gàng và tao nhã của VHNT postings.
- Các thi sĩ làm thơ hay quá.
- Các truyện ngắn rất hay, rất thật, và đôi khi rất tiếu (nhất là bài Việt Chột của anh Bùi Thành Liêm).
Cảm tạ và mến chào,
Phụng Trương
Nhân Con Ngựa Gỗ
Tôi không ác cảm thơ "mới" năm 1930. Tôi từng đã có thời say mê các nhà thơ "mới" và hành bút dưới bóng họ. Nhưng tôi không muốn tiếp tục. Thành tựu của họ đòi hỏi ta phải thử những thành tựu khác.
Thơ "mới" năm 1930 chịu ảnh hưởng nặng chủ nghĩa lãng mạn Pháp thế kỷ XIX. Nó chưa ra khỏi quỹ đạo của cái mà các nhà thi pháp học gọi là định lý Ðalămbe: "Chỉ có thể coi là ưu trong thơ cái được đánh giá là tối ưu trong văn xuôi".
Thơ không phải văn xuôi được nâng cấp, mông má tại một mỹ viện. Văn xuôi chủ yếu dựa vào "ý tại ngôn tại". Thơ khác hẳn dựa vào "ý tại ngôn ngoại". Ðã có "ý tại ngôn ngoại" tất nhiên, phải cô đúc, đa nghĩa.
Ða nghĩa vì câu thơ mang nặng lịch sử chữ, hoạt động ở tầng văn hóa, cả trong ý thức lẫn vô thức người viết. Nhà thơ ít nhiều ngoại cảm chữ. Có người hỏi Malacmê:
- ông định nói gì trong bài thơ ?
- nếu biết định nói gì thì nói, việc gì phải viết thơ.
Lại hỏi:
- sao tôi nhiều ý hay mà làm thơ lại không hay?
- người ta làm thơ không phải làm bằng ý mà bằng chữ. Nhà thơ làm chữ chủ yếu không phải ở nghĩa "tiêu dùng" nghĩa tự vị của nó mà ở diện mạo, âm lượng, độ vang vọng, sức gợi cảm của chữ trong tương quan hữu cơ với câu thơ bài thơ.
Nói như Valery, chữ trong thơ văn xuôi tuy giống nhau về hình thức nhưng khác nhau về giá trị (hóa trị có lẽ đúng hơn).
Người đọc thời trước là một người đọc tương đối thụ động tìm lý giải một ý đã có sẵn.
Người đọc thời nay là một người đọc tích cực cùng tham dự phát nghĩa với nhà thơ.
Người đọc phần nào đồng tác giả với người viết.
"Ông phó cả ngựa" có thể là một nhà thơ khônt tự biết. Những con ngựa của ông họ hàng với những con chữ, nó sinh sôi nảy nở bất tận với trời đất.
"Bậc phó cả
Dễ ít nhiều Tạo hóa
Cùng cánh thơ."
Ðây là một loại ngựa gỗ đặc biệt, loại ngựa công nghệ sinh học đời mới. Người nghệ sĩ già đã cấy vào đó "gien" của số phận.
"Ngựa lên mấy
Mà nghìn tuổi cây
Và một tiểu sử người."
Và câu chuyện về "Ông phó cả ngựa" biết đâu chẳng là một ngụ ngôn về thi pháp, về truyền thống, đổi mới.
Ðại sư Cổ Ðức nói: "Khi ta trỏ mặt trăng, nhiều người mải nhìn ngón tay mà quên mất mặt trăng."
Bạn đọc trước khi bước vào bài thơ xin tạm để lại cách đọc tuyến tính thuần duy lý ở ngưỡng cửa như người khách bỏ giầy trước khi bước vào một trà thất Nhật Bản.
Bạn hãy thử để những hình ảnh những con chữ trong câu thơ dắt dẫn trên con đường tâm thức ra khỏi lối đi ngữ nghĩa "tiêu dùng" một chiều quen thuộc hàng ngày.
Lê Ðạt
Hanoi, Vietnam
* trích từ tạp chí Thơ, số mùa xuân 1995
Ðôi Mắt
Em đến đây cho hồn tôi xao động
Những đêm dài thao thức nhớ biết bao
Ðôi mắt em, một khung trời huyền ảo
Với nụ cười - tôi chết lặng trong tim
Và hằng đêm bên cung đàn chùng phím
Dư âm buồn vang vọng giữa hư không
Dáng em yêu hiện về trong sầu mộng
Thoáng u hoài - đàn lỡ nhịp oán than
Giây lìa đàn lạc nhịp rơi khẽ khàng
Màn đêm buồn bao phủ khắp quanh đây
Trong cô liêu, tôi tìm về bên ấy
Nơi mắt em - giòng suối nhỏ diệu hiền
Thoáng mơ hoang
DKV
Nhớ Về Cố Hương
Quê mình còn đó người ơi
Mà sao tiếng gọi xa vời bên kia
Mẹ Việt Nam bỗng ngăn chia
Ðể đàn con nhỏ xa lìa cố hương.
Ra đi lệ ngấn ngàn thương
Ôi đàn chim Lạc vấn vương quốc hờn
Nỗi buồn quấn quít từng cơn
Êm như biển lặng, sống cồn biển giông
Lòng chừ se lạnh đêm đông
Còn đâu em hỡi điểm hồng nắng xưa?
Hồn mình ướt lệ như mưa
Xin em chút lửa sưởi vừa lòng nhau
Tỉnh đi cất bước mau mau
Biến cơn bi bát hóa màu thắm tươi
Tuổi đời mình quá đôi mươi
Hỏi xem ai đã thành "người" hay chưa?
Hãy xoay nắng hạn thành mưa
Cho dân tôi đói, được mùa yên vui
LTN Nguyễn Ðình Thái
Mấy Ai
Cuối ngày thấp thoáng ánh hoàng hôn,
Một mình độc bước, kẻ lạc hồn,
Ðâu đây chút nắng, còn thương tiếc,
Như tiếc cuộc tình, tiếc nụ hôn!!!
Hoàng hôn biến mất, dạ bồn chồn,
Ðêm về ngớ ngẩn, tình vùi chôn,
người duyên mới, ai lạnh giá,
Trong chốn tình trường, mấy ai khôn?!!
Quách Cường
Calif.08/29/95
Back Home 95
(Part 2 - continued)
Inside Tan Son Nhat Airport
Everyone seemed to smile, nervously, especially those Viet Kieu who returned home for the first time, for their eyes betrayed their fear. There were some foreigners but I wondered how they felt about stepping into Tan Son Nhat Airport for they never ran away from Vietnam in the first place.
"Man, are you going to bribe?" my friend whispered.
"No."
"They're going to search through your stuffs. Too much trouble, man."
"I'll let them search."
"Too much trouble, you know. Besides, I have no idea what's in the other two luggages my travel agent had asked me to deliver. Them stuffs are darn heavy!"
I knew how my friend felt. First time wasn't always easy.
"You're going to bribe?"
"Yes. I have no choice man," he said nervously. "This is my first time. The agency gave me a 40-dollar discount on my ticket. They also gave me another $40 in order to bribe the custom officers."
"Well, then, don't give them all $40 at once. Give them a little bit. If they make trouble, give them a bit more."
The minute I stepped off the airplane, I felt the warming wind blew into my face. I felt like I just fell off into another world, into a different time zone. It took me a few minutes for my body to get adjusted to a sudden change of weather. Looking up I saw a sheet of milky cloud covered the sky. It was dark all around with shades and shadows creeping in the night. I could only see a few blinking lights on the runways and the bright lights afar that illuminated from the airport. A few feet away there was a shuttle waiting to carry the passengers to the airport. After the shuttle was filled up, it began to move toward the airport station, leaving another group behind for the next round.
Inside the airport, the air was cooler thanks to the air condition. There were half a dozen checkout counters which were used for processing custom papers. I stood in line and looked around. Ah, four years ago this place was nothing but resembled an old warehouse full of loosely uncoated cardboard walls separated into sections. Now, it looked quite different, quite modern in comparison to itself four years back. Though, one thing I still found had not changed much. The men behind the counters. Something about their eyes that betrayed them when they stared at me!
People waited expectantly with such tension concentrated on their face. It looked as though they were on a mission, not a vacation. I saw some people slipped their money into their passport hurriedly with their trembling hands as they stared straight at the men in uniforms at the counters.
When it was my turn, I handed in my papers and waited. The man sitting behind the counter took my papers, stared at me for a moment as if trying to intimidate me. It worked, but not good enough. While he was taking time shuffling my papers behind his desk I watched other people gathering at the baggage claim area looking for their suitcases which popped up out of the side of the wall and rolled around toward them. In the summer of 1993 when I visited Vietnam the baggage claim area was nothing but a plain floor. Now in its place there was a modern rolling machine that actually moved round and round without anyone pushing or pulling it.
After I was through with my papers without bribing a penny, I stepped through and headed for the baggage claim area which only a few feet away.
The first thing I did was to go straight all the way to the other end to get a push-cart to carry my two boxes of medical supplies. Unlike some airports in the world, you could use the push-cart free of charge which I do not think would be free in the near future. When I got back to the baggage claim area my friend was still waiting for his four giant suitcases. I sat on my handbag trying to relax. My friend looked nervous. When he got all his luggage, he bit me farewell.
"Hey, look herẹ Call me a few weeks later, will you?" said he. "Don't forget man. You got my phone number right?"
"Yes. Sure I will. I will."
A few minutes later I finally got two of my boxes. I put them on the cart and began to push it toward the check-out counters. I held tightly all my custom papers, visa, and passport in my hand. When I filled out the information I didn't exactly know what were stored in the boxes except that they were medical supplies.
The minute I approached the counters I saw hundreds of figures stood waiting outside impatiently with their heads tilted and their chins up in the air. I went up to the first counter to my right and gave the custom officers my passport with other papers sandwichedin it. He took the passport, stared at me, opened it, and flipped through the passport looking for something. I watched him. Then he swept his eyes at me coldly.
"Where's your luggage?" he said.
He already saw my luggage.
"Here. Right here," I said.
He leaned over the counter which wasn't blocking his view, took a good long look, and then complained.
"Look. This is messy. Can't read your scribbling."
"Huh? What you mean?"
"Go back there," he said, pointing over my shoulder. "Go back there fill out another one neatly."
I looked at my papers. My handwriting wasn't that great but it sure was readable, except for a few words I crossed out. My, but why on earth did he bother to look at them discarded words for?
I went back out toward a small desk, pulled out a form that matched the one I ruined (as the man said so) and began to fill it out neatly making sure I didn't make any mistake. I wrote:
1 handbag
2 boxes of medical supplies
1 book, "In Retrospect"
Then I returned to the same first counter. I handed the officer my passport again. He looked at me, flipped through my passport, and then put it down on the counter in front of me. I waited. Nothing happened. He was busy doing something else! At this moment I saw a head loomed over my shoulder and then charged forward with his passport. I stepped aside to let him in. It was the same old man I saw on the airplane.
"Please. Please take care of my stuffs quick and then we'll talk about more tip later." whispered the old man. "Hehehehe. Please. I assure you. We'll take care of business nicely."
I stared at the man, at his giant suitcases, and then back at the officer with curiosity. He stared back at me annoyingly.
"Here. Heavens. Take your papers. Here," he said. "Don't you see I am busy? Go. Go to the next available counter."
I wanted to scream at him but I took my passport and proceeded to the next one on my left and handed another man behind the counter my passport. He took it, flipped through it, and then put it on the counter as though I wasn't there. I waited. He walked away. I picked up my passport and continued to the next counters but found no luck. No luck? Of course they didn't want to waste their time with me for nothing. I had plenty of time though.
All of a sudden somebody grabbed my hand and pulled me backward.
"Now. Look. I know you're in trouble," whispered a woman. "You know why he didn't do your paper? Why don't you give him a few dollars?"
I smiled but didn't say a word. She walked away quickly thinking I got her message. When I came back I found the man turned away quickly. He'd been watching me and the woman. I waited without flashing a signal.
"Go to the very far left counter," said the man, pointing his hand, "through that door on the other side of the glass wall."
Again, I was being denied of a service which I already paid for when I bought my ticket. I pushed my cart to the other side on the far left. There were two or three check-out counters. I handed my passport to the man at the first counter and predictably he refused to process my papers after finding no money hidden inside. Like the others, he turned his back on me. I refused to give up. In 1991 I bribed $40 out of fear. In 1993 I bribed $5. This time I decided not to bribe a dime no matter what happen. I didn't mind going through the trouble this time.
"Why don't you process my papers?" I said angrily.
He took me no heed. I saw at the next counter stood a young lady. Thinking I might get some luck with a woman since all the men had turned me down, I approached and gave her my passport.
"How come they refuse to process my paper?" I said, though already knew exactly the reason.
"Why didn't they?" said she.
I wanted to say that because I didn't bribe them but then held my tongue.
"I don't know," I said in resignation.
She looked at me, flipped through the passport, and then put it down. Oh no, not again.
"What have you got there?"
"Two boxes of medical supplies."
She hesitated for a moment.
"Why you bring so many things with you?"
"They're medical supplies for hospitals. I bring less than the weight I am entitled to."
"You're going to sell them?"
"No. I am going to give them to hospitals."
"Hospitals? What hospital? Where?"
"I don't know. Whichever hospitals in need of these stuffs."
"What medical supplies?"
"Huh? Uh, medical supplies. You know. Stuffs for the hospitals."
"What kind of medical supplies? Exactly."
Gee. To tell the truth, had no idea what was in there exactly. I didn't pack the boxes myself. I tapped my hand on the top box and shook it lightly.
"Uh, medical supplies, you know," I mumbled, "like needles, sewing threads, doctor's surgery clothes, bandages."
"How many needles?"
"Uh, uh a dozen or two, boxes," I said, guessing.
She scribbled down 2 dozens boxes of needles on my custom declaration paper.
"How many sewing threads?"
"Uh, uh two or three dozens boxes," I said, trying to think of a small magic number that popped up in my mind.
"What else are in there?"
"Um, doctor's surgery clothes."
How many?"
"Two, three pieces. Uh, come on, you know. I can't remember all little details," I complained.
There were too many items in the boxes that I didn't know but the form was too small to list everything. I ran through my mind for a list of things to say.
"Open it," she said coldly, handing me a 6-inch small thin dull knife.
"Sure. I'll open it but do you have tape for me to seal the boxes later?" I said, grabbing the blade from her hand with my thumb and index finger carefully so I would get cut.
She turned away.
"How am I going to seal the boxes again after I cut open open?" I said.
She didn't spare me a word. For god sake she didn't even look at me but the boxes. Through the process so far, they did all the asking and expected answers but when I asked them questions they refused to answer. Either I had no privilege to ask or they had no answers to give, I decided.
I began to get nervous but I proceeded to cut through the top flaps of the box along the cracks which were pasted together by Scotch or masking tape. I held my breaths. I had no idea what else were in there besides the items mentioned. I prayed and prayed hoping that the first few items we would see were sewing threads, needles, and doctor's surgery clothes as I told her. I didn't know what else were in the boxes. So fear had a reason to possess me. I tried to fight back the fear but the more I tried the more it grew. I was going to give up at that moment. All I had to do was to stick out a five or ten dollar bill and the struggle would be over. I would be out of the airport in no time.
"Here. There. See for yourself," I said with a smile as I opened up the box and lifted items insidẹ "See? Doctor's surgery clothes. And here's needles and sewing threads and other miscellaneous medical supply stuffs."
I didn't see needles and sewing threads but said out loud for the sake of being heard. She stared at the boxes but didn't even bother to look carefully.
"Want me to open the second box too? Same stuffs though," I said, half challenging.
"No need."
Thank you.
"You said how many surgery clothes?" said she. "Two, you said?"
"Three. Yeah. Three," I corrected her. "Let me count again."
"What's going on?" asked a man as he approached the woman.
She said something to the man I couldn't hear. I looked around and realized I was one of the few last passengers who were being stalled by the custom officers. My friend was nowhere in sight. It was past midnight! The woman turned to me.
"Don't sell them, you hear me?" she said.
"I told you I will give them to the hospitals."
"You have a book too?"
"Yeah."
"Give it to me."
Oh no, now what?
"Here," I said, handing her the book reluctantly.
"Put your boxes through the X-ray machine, hurry up."
Please let there be no metal in the boxes, please.
"Just a minute. I've got to seal my box," I said.
There was nothing, no tape, for me to seal the box.
"Hurry up, please."
"Okay. Right away! My book," I said.
I put the boxes and my backpack on the rolling conveyor belt and then pushed the empty cart through to the other end. The woman gave me back my passport, visa and other necessary papers which I took quickly and put them all in my backpack. I then loaded the two boxes onto the cart.
"My book," I said again.
"Follow me to this side," said the woman. "It is to be inspected."
My heart jumped. Inspected? Man. Looked like I would be held up for a while before dawn approached. I pushed my cart and followed her to the corner where there was one man sitting with a VCR and a TV in front of him. She gave the man my book with a yellow note attached to it. Behind the man on the floor were full of video tapes piled up in tall columns. I was the second, and the last in line! There was a woman in front of me with a bag full of video tapes which I estimated no less than 100 tapes in all! I watched. The man put a tape in the VCR. I didn't see his fingers in action but I could deduct from the clicking that he pushed a Forward button, pushed a Stop, pushed a Play, Watched a second or two, and then ejected it. He gave back to the woman half a dozen tapes and continued to pick up randomly a tape from the pile next to his side on the desk.
"Please. These tapes are nothing but wedding and birthday recordings. I wouldn't lie to you. My relatives are waiting outside. It's late," said the woman impatiently.
She searched through her purse, leaned over, and then squeezed something into the man's hand. He stopped inspecting the tapes and gave the rest back to her.
"These tapes are needed more inspection," said the man, touching half a dozen tape on his left side and gave the woman a small piece of paper. "Come to this address on Wednesday the 24th to claim your video tapes."
The woman mumbled something, took the paper reluctantly, and then carried away her bag full of tapes. I stepped forward and leaned on the counter watching him nervously. I folded my hands and rested them on the counter with my fingers crossed. My heart pumped quickly, my stomach seemed to growl, but my face looked cool. He looked at the cover of the book carefully, flipped through it, and then wrote something. I saw a smile on his face.
"You know the book?" I said.
"Yes," nođed the man.
"You read it?"
"Some of it."
"You like it?"
"It's pretty good."
I waited impatiently.
The man said no more. He continued to write something. Since he knew the book and he told me it was pretty good I was hoping he would give it back.
Outside, there were few people waiting for their relatives. Inside, there were even fewer passengers left. I began to worry.
"Here," said the man, handing me a small yellow piece of paper. "Come back three days later on Wednesday the 24th to claim your book at this address."
I took the paper and looked at the address which I had no idea where about. I pushed the cart out through the last door of Tân Sơn Nhất Airport as I looked for a sign with my name on it. People stared at me as I swept my tired eyes using the last of my best vision to search for my name's sign. There it was. I found it. Two young men stood behind a sign with my full name on it. I waved at them and they waved back. I approached them.
"What's your name?" I said as I looked at the older one, making sure no mistake.
"Trí."
"And your name?" I looked at the second one, "is Hữu?"
"Yes."
Identifications verified.
They stood on my sides and escorted me to a taxi nearby. We got into the car and took off into the dimly lit streets.
After midnight the streets of Saigon were less lively. There were fewer people on the streets and less twinkling lights except for a few street lights with every other light bulbs dead. Here and there a few late night pedicap or cyclo drivers paddling sleepily through the night hoping to find a few last pedestrians in need of their services.
Ah ha! I did it! I got through. I beat the system! I was filled with pride.
I leaned back in the car and relaxed... but then something struck me. What about my book? What would they do when I come to collect it? Darn. Fear crept back into me. But that was not all. That night before I hit the bed I found something else that troubled my sleep. I wasn't through with the custom officers yet. My struggle would continue the next day at Tan Son Nhat Airport with all the odds against me, I anticipated.
So much for one long night. There was nothing I could do until tomorrow. I needed some sleep yet sleep never came.
(To be continued...)
Thank you for reading.
Lam T. Hy
MY OTHER JOURNALS:
Back Home 91 (4 parts)
Back Home 93 (15 parts)
Back Home 95 (part 3 in progress)