Ngo Minh's poetry, deep soul of the countryside

But wherever he went, whatever he did, he always had a deep affection for his homeland. Even the names of his poetry collections partly express that: Child of the Sand, Alluvium of the Sea, Legend of Cua Tung, Le Thuy Suot Mua...

In the poem "Years of Friends" with the dedication: "Dedicated to friends from Le Thuy High School", the author expresses: We have friends in our years/ In the old moss-covered path/ Half a life of ups and downs, coming back to you/ is as happy as if there were no heavy dew.

That is the reality of life, when the author returns to his hometown, the place where he was "born and raised", when the poet goes back in time to find the past of his youth with a myriad of emotions, especially the joyful mood when touching the memories of his student years, the most beautiful and dreamy age of a person's life. The joy seems to surpass everything when remembering friends of the same age. The reality of life has blended with the reality of mood so it is easy for many people to sympathize. We have in the years of friends/ mother in the cold wind of the night/ father in the grain of sand of the starry night/ and you in the mountain pass separating us.

Anthology of poet Ngo Minh - Photo: PXD

The poetic voice is realistic, with details distilled with a nostalgic mood, deeply missing the homeland and the years of studying, hard and arduous, but full of memories. The memories are like ocean waves endlessly crashing into distant memories. The refrain "We have friends in the years" keeps lingering endlessly. And from realistic description, realistic telling, the poem ends with a general, abstract and soaring sound, expanding the field of association truly like a poet: it's so cold that poetry can't sleep / light a fire to warm each other's hearts / out there the river nestles in the shade of grass / the cold night cuts across the sound of train whistles...

The poet calls himself "Child of the Sand" which is also the name of a poem, a collection of his poems. And he confesses in verse: "Child of the sand/ eyes accustomed to opening to the sharp wind/ to perceive in the eyes of the sea a horizon/ crystallized into a grain of salt of my soul...".

The sea village is the paternal and maternal homeland that almost always appears in his poems, so simple, deep and sometimes filled with nostalgia that the poet feels like he can't sit still. In the poem "The Legend of Cua Tung" (which is also the name of a collection of poems), the poet created touching and haunting poetic images when talking about his motherland: Oh homeland/ Cua Tung Vinh Quang Cat Son Thuy Ban/ cold wind on this side, on the other side looking for blankets/ narrow river with only steps left/ people looking for each other and sand looking for each other/ twenty years the river has turned into flowing blood/ the sea flickers with incense fire of repentance.

That is Cua Tung, the poet's maternal hometown, the Vinh Linh steel rampart, the Ben Hai bridge, the Hien Luong river, one side remembering, one side loving, containing a time of North and South by day and South by night. That place manifests the deep love for the maternal hometown and stands tall as a monument in the hearts of many people about the aspiration for national reunification, to overcome visible and invisible barriers and separations, so that the North and South can return to one home, so that the great reunion will never mention separation. That aspiration is so ordinary, simple, yet so great that the whole nation had to go through a twenty-year long march to reach the shore of reunion.

In the prose poem dedicated to fellow poets, entitled: "Poems dedicated to Le Dinh Ty, Mai Van Hoan, Hai Ky on wandering winter nights in Hue", the author sketches quick sketches one after another in a slow-motion film about the close friendship during the difficult months of 45 years ago (1980). The poetic images are impressive and evocative: we were absent-minded like that all winter, together in the pouring rain, bringing poetry to small rooms where the lights were not bright enough to recognize the thin features of friends, only the smiles appearing on their lips added fire to the hot poetry. We were together in the deep night, the sky-high verses wrapped around the aching heart, a few glances still called back to the symphony. The trees by the roadside leaned down, heavy with rain, or wanted to share the whispers of people's hearts.

The homeland and close, deep friendship are recreated in poetry through the memories of rain and sunshine, through the space of a small room filled with affection, through a lamp that is just enough to illuminate the gaunt faces of friends during the difficult days of the subsidy period. Indeed, there is nothing more memorable and heavy on each other's hearts than the pure gold memories of friendship, especially the marks that mark the hard times.

The poet has gone far away to the land of white clouds, but poetry still remains with the human world, steadfast, loyal and steadfast like a tiny grain of sand that haunts so much:

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