A hundred years---in this life span on earth

talent and destiny are apt to feud.

You must go through a play of ebb and flow*
and watch such things as make you sick at heart.
Is it so strange that losses balance gains?* 5
Blue Heaven's wont to strike arose from spite.*
By lamplight turn these scented leaves and read
a tale of love recorded in old books.
Under the Chia-ching reign when Ming held sway,*
all lived at peaceboth capitals stood strong.* 10

Trm nm trong ci ngi ta,

Ch ti ch mnh kho l ght nhau.
Tri qua mt cuc b du,
Nhng iu trng thy m au n lng.
L g b sc t phong,
Tri xanh quen thi m hng nh ghen.
Co thm ln gi trc n,
Phong tnh c lc cn truyn s xanh.
Rng: Nm Gia-tnh triu Minh,
Bn phng phng lng hai kinh ch vng.

There was a burgher in the clan of Vuong,*

a man of modest wealth and middle rank.
He had a last born son, Vuong Quanhis hope*
to carry on a line of learned folk.

C nh vin ngoi h Vng,

Gia t ngh cng thng thng bc trung.
Mt trai con th rt lng,
Vng Quan l ch ni dng nho gia.

Two daughters, beauties both, had come before: 15

Thuy Kieu was oldest, younger was Thuy Van.*
Bodies like slim plum branches, snow pure souls:
each her own self, each perfect in her way.
In quiet grace Van was beyond compare:
her face a moon, her eyebrows two full curves; 20
her smile a flower, her voice the song of jade;
her hair the sheen of clouds, her skin white snow.
Yet Kieu possessed a keener, deeper charm,
surpassing Van in talents and in looks.
Her eyes were autumn streams, her brows spring hills. 25
Flowers grudged her glamour, willows her fresh hue.
A glance or two from her, and kingdoms rocked!
Supreme in looks, she had few peers in gifts.
By Heaven blessed with wit, she knew all skills:
she could write verse and paint, could sing and chant. 30
Of music she had mastered all five tones*
and played the lute far better than Ai Chang.*
She had composed a song called Cruel Fate*
to mourn all women in soul rending strains.
A paragon of grace for womanhood,* 35
she neared that time when maidens pinned their hair.*
She calmly lived behind drawn shades and drapes,
as wooers swarmed, unheeded, by the wall.*

u lng hai t nga,

Thy Kiu l ch em l Thy Vn.
Mai ct cch tuyt tinh thn,
Mi ngi mt v mi phn vn mi.
Vn xem trang trng khc vi,
Khun trng y n nt ngi n nang.
Hoa ci ngc tht oan trang,
My thua nc tc tuyt nhng mu da.
Kiu cng sc so mn m,
So b ti sc li l phn hn.
Ln thu thy nt xun sn,
Hoa ghen thua thm liu hn km xanh.
Mt hai nghing nc nghing thnh,
Sc nh i mt ti nh ha hai.
Thng minh vn sn tnh tri,
Pha ngh thi ha mi ca ngm.
Cung thng lu bc ng m,
Ngh ring n t h cm mt trng.
Khc nh tay la nn xoang,
Mt thin Bc mnh li cng no nhn.
Phong lu rt mc hng qun,
Xun xanh xp x ti tun cp k.
m m trng r mn che,
Tng ng ong bm i v mc ai.

Swift swallows and spring days were shuttling by

of ninety radiant ones three score had fled. 40
Young grass spread all its green to heaven's rim;
some blossoms marked pear branches with white dots.
Now came the Feast of Light in the third month*
with graveyard rites and junkets on the green.
As merry pilgrims flocked from near and far,* 45
the sisters and their brother went for a stroll.
Fine men and beauteous women on parade:
a crush of clothes, a rush of wheels and steeds.*

Ngy xun con n a thoi,

Thiu quang chn chc ngoi su mi.
C non xanh tn chn tri,
Cnh l trng im mt vi bng hoa.
Thanh minh trong tit thng ba,
L l to m hi l p thanh.
Gn xa n nc yn anh,
Ch em sm sa b hnh chi xun.
Dp du ti t giai nhn,
Nga xe nh nc o qun nh nm.

Folks clambered burial knolls to strew and burn

sham gold or paper coins, and ashes swirled. 50
Now, as the sun was dipping toward the west,
the youngsters started homeward, hand in hand.
With leisured steps they walked along a brook,
admiring here and there a pretty view.
The rivulet, babbling, curled and wound its course 55
under a bridge that spanned it farther down.
The Tale of a Beautiful and Talented Vietnamese Girl
Authored by Nguyen Du
Translated by Michael Counsell
It's always been the same:
good fortune seldom came the way
of those endowed, they say,
with genius and a dainty face.
What tragedies take place
within each circling space of years!
'Rich in good looks' appears
to mean poor luck and tears of woe;
which may sound strange, I know,
but is not really so, I swear,
since Heaven everywhere
seems jealous of the fair of face.
When bamboo covers case
old manuscripts of countless price
preserved in fragrant spice,
sit by a lamp and study well
the story that they tell:
how in the dynasty of Ming
when Jia-ching was the king
and all his empire was at rest,
among those who were blessed
with learning was a man named Vuong.
He had a son, the young
Vuong-Quan, to carry on his name
and literary fame;
and two girls, Thuy_Van and Thuy-Kieu,
who were as slim as two
young poplar-trees, as pure as snow,
as fair as heaven, though
quite different in their perfect grace.
Vans moon-like round clear face
her honest simple heart displayed;
eyebrows two arches made;
Her voice like jade, clear, free from guile,
was comedy as her smile
which blossomed like an opening rose.
What beauty have the snows
to that with which she was endowed?
What is a floating cloud

Ngn ngang g ng ko ln,

Thoi vng v rc tro tin giy bay.
T t bng ng v ty,
Ch em th thn dan tay ra v.
Bc dn theo ngn tiu kh,
Ln xem phong cnh c b thanh thanh.
Nao nao dng nc un quanh,
Nhp cu nho nh cui ghnh bc ngang.

compared with Thuy-Vans flowing hair?

But Kieu was yet more fair;
the elders merits took the prize.
Like autumn seas her eyes,
eyebrows like spring hills far away.
Flowers wished they were as gay;
the aspen shook with envying her.
One glance of Kieus could stir
cities or empires to revolt!
Her beauty had no fault,
nor in her mind was any flaw:
shed write in verse, or draw;
excel at playing on the lute;
and, choosing tunes to suit,
compose songs for herself to sing.
Once such, so sad a thing
the listeners wept, she called Cruel Fate.
Remaining - from the date
she dressed her hair a child no more,
behind a fastened door
and modest curtains, brought up well,
in brief peace could she dwell.
Though suitors swarmed outside the wall
Kieu never came at all
to gratify their greedy gaze.
Like shuttles flew the days,
till, on the sixtieth day of spring,
when trees are blossoming
and petals lie upon the ground,
the festival comes round
to trim the grass on family graves.
The crowds flow past in waves
like flocks of swallows round their nest.
Van, Kieu and Vuong-Quan dressed,
and took a stroll among the throng.
Fair ladies passed along,
and noble, well-dressed gentlemen.
The crowds divided when
each vehicle and horse would pass.
Scattered upon the grass
were golden-paper ritual gifts
for burning. Each fire lifts
the ashes to the dead on high.
Gold, too, the western sky,
from which the sinking suns late ray
showed up the graves which lay
like little hillocks all around.
The three of them soon found

A little stream by which they strolled,

while vistas new unrolled
before them to admire until,
meandering down, the rill
passed underneath a narrow bridge.