Huynh, trans. The Tale of Kieu.
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 peace—both capitals stood strong.* 10
There was a burgher in the clan of Vuong,*
a man of modest wealth and middle rank.
He had a last born son, Vuong Quan—his hope*
to carry on a line of learned folk.
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.*
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*
(Dzung Trieu Law Firm)
