Three poems from the “Mặc Ông sứ tập” (113 classical-Chinese poems; Vietnamese translation “Mặc Trai sứ tập”, Văn học Publishing, 2009). The Vietnamese renderings below follow Thi Viện, mostly by Đinh Nho Hồng, a descendant of the lineage; the French and English versions are indicative site translations.
I
Crossing the Nhị River — verses at departure渡珥河繾題 · Độ Nhị hà khiển đề
Setting out on the embassy to Qing China, 1715 — indicative site translation
The boat glides in the new spring, pressing back the lingering cold;
at the river pavilion the farewell feast is over — we cross the bank.
A fragrance from heaven soaks through the thousandfold waters;
like a bolt of green silk the river spreads ten leagues of waves.
Cinnamon oar and orchid paddle taste their first dangers;
a loyal subject and pious son pushes hardship aside.
On the day the mission is done, beneath the flowered mast,
I shall visit this landing again — and look on it with a smile.
Vietnamese rendering: Xuân Lộc — Thi Viện
❀ ❀ ❀
II
At the Yellow Crane Tower, passing Vũ Xương過武昌城題黃鶴樓 · Quá Vũ Xương thành đề Hoàng Hạc lâu
On the Yangzi, 1715–1716 — indicative site translation
Longing for the crane, the lonely tower soars on Crane Hill;
above its vault, vault upon vault climbs toward the sky.
Along the railing the moon sways on the waves of the Xương River;
at the trembling blind the wind carries the red glow of Hán Dương trees.
In the moat the golden millet is half ripe;
in the garden the jujubes redden in the amber light.
Phoenix Mountain stands close by — if only one could ride it,
flute at the lips, one should learn from that old immortal.
Vietnamese rendering: Đinh Nho Hồng, a descendant of the lineage — Thi Viện
❀ ❀ ❀
III
Passing Ô Man — thoughts of homeQuá Ô Man tư quốc cảm tác
Through the southern gorges, 1715 — indicative site translation
On the sandbank no fishing boat, at the foot of the hills no woodcutter;
before the Five-Perils pass, half our strength is gone — yet in we must go.
Crossing the rapids today, I think long of the ancient shrine;
when shall we, seeing off a guest, laugh again by the bridge over the brook?
A thousand leagues away, the moon of home still watches the empty road;
through the third watch a flute lingers over the traveller's inn.
A heart wholly loyal and pious gives me strength again:
sooner or later, at the king's gate, the music of return will sound.
Vietnamese rendering: Đinh Nho Hồng, a descendant of the lineage — Thi Viện
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