Stranger from the Internet

I’m just a stranger from the Internet
Who lives 1.8 kilometers away
Who shows up at your door like an uninvited guest
And feeds you strange food every other day

I’m just a stranger from the Internet
Who messes up your sleeping schedule
Who occupies half of your bed
After a ride that wastes your fuel

I’m just a stranger from the Internet
Who loves your crinkling eyes as you grin
Who randomly throws your name into every chitchat
Then cries my eyes out when I’m left on seen

I’m just a stranger from the Internet
Who finds you so achingly familiar
So gentle and mellow, the bestest of the best
Even potential, mayhaps, of being a keeper

So tell me, stranger from the Internet
Can you just stop being a stranger?
But if that is too much of a request
You will still be my favorite one ever.

Maastricht, 1/2019
–
the breakup poem that took me so many tears

1967

An early summer day, a 9-year-old boy fishing with his tabby
When suddenly the sky fell down, rumbling and shaky
The boy found himself at the bottom of the pond
With shattered pieces of houses, trunks, and his tabby.

The same summer day, 200 kilometers away
A calico cat basking peacefully in the sun rays
Purring with the cry of a newborn baby girl
In a house of warmth, tranquility and grace.

Fast forward through time and through space
Through warfare and hardships, through up-and-down days
The boy and the girl have found their way together
For their own kitty cat that is growing up today.

Maastricht, 10/2018
–
written for my poetry class in college

studying Game Theory with my freshman year crush

tôi đi cùng cậu trong đêm
tôi ngồi với cậu trên thuyền
tôi và cậu một ngày dài thư viện

tôi viết cho cậu trên tàu
tàu từ thành phố xa
đường tàu chắc hẳn cậu đã đi qua
đi đến nhiều nơi khác nữa
nhiều hơn tôi và xa hơn tôi

cậu hay ở bên kia thế giới
cậu chẳng mấy khi ở gần tôi
nhưng tôi cứ muốn ngày ngày bên cậu thôi
và mong rằng đó là Nash cân bằng
rồi chúng ta chẳng ai cần thay đổi

Maastricht, 4/2018

củ hành tây đột biến

(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.