(English version below)
củ hành tây đột biến
khóc lóc trên máy bay
sau mây dần tan biến
cho cơn mơ thôi dài
lặng im khép mi lại
trang sách bỗng ướt nhoà
thời gian trôi đi mãi
về đâu ngày hôm qua?
the mutated onion
crying on the plane
behind the clouds, gradually
my long dream wanes
quietly shut my lids
the words get teary
time keeps ticking away
where are you yesterday?
some people, unfortunately, are like onions. you keep peeling off their layers, trying to figure out their core, crying your eyes out in the process, only to find out they have nothing inside. I hope that all of us, including myself, are, and will find for ourselves, the mutated onions, those who have warm and loving hearts underneath.
–
viết trên máy bay từ Hà Nội đi Amsterdam, 2/2018, sau khi đọc 5 múi giờ, 10 tiếng bay và một cái khép mi
a friend from college recently sent me this reels of a giant onion, saying any time they see onion-related content now, they still think of me and this poem (which was also the first poem I ever read to my college friends).
so that was the excuse I needed to finally do this poetry-dump of pieces I wrote in college on this blog, while procrastinating.
Thu writes here 