A
Mother’s Advice
by Phung
Quan (1957)
When I was two years
old, my father ceased to be
My mother has not
remarried since, out of her love for me
She since has grown
mulberry, cared for silkworms, and weaved daily
To bring me up until
the day I have grown fully.
It has been twenty
years, I still remember, since the day
I was only a naïve
boy of five years of age
I did not remember
why, but to my mother did I lie
I thought I would
get the spanking I deserved that time.
My mother did not
deliver it but with a sadness in her eyes
She embraced me,
and kissed the hair of mine
- My son, before
your father passed away
He said that in
all your life you should strive
To remain a person
of honesty, and should never lie.
- Mommy, what is
honesty? Why?
My mother kissed
me on the eyes
- My son, an honest
person is one
Who would smile
when he feels like smiling
Would cry when he
feels like crying
Would say, I like,
to someone he likes
Would say, I dislike,
to someone he dislikes
Despite anyone’s
sweet talking and appeasing
He would not switch
liking for hating
Despite anyone’s
knife holding and threats of killing
Would not switch
hating for liking.
Since then, whenever
someone asks me:
- Little boy, who
do you love most, who would it be?
I answer them, remembering
what my mother has said:
I love honest people,
who would call a spade a spade.
Grown-ups look at
me in disbelieving
Considering me just
a little parrot in my talking
But what my mother
has said remains
Imprinted deep in
my brain
Just like onto a
bright white piece of paper
A bright red seal
is permanently imprinted forever
This year it is twenty
five years in coming
The orphaned boy
becomes a writer in his living
But what my mother
has said since I was five
Its crimson colour
remains intact and bright.
Though the tightrope
walker’s work is difficult in his walking
But it is more difficult
for a writer in his writing
Who ought to remain
totally in honesty in his living.
Who would say, I
like, to someone he likes
Would say, I dislike,
to someone he dislikes
Despite anyone’s
sweet talking and appeasing
He would not switch
liking for hating
Despite anyone’s
knife holding and threats of killing
Would not switch
hating for liking.
I want to be an honest
writer
All my life and
perhaps forever
Fame’s sweetness
and honey cannot sweeten my tongue in bitterness
Lightning cannot
strike me down and make me depressed
If someone snatches
away my pen, paper, and instruments for my writing
I would use knives
to write on stones with my carving.
Translated from Vietnamese
into English by Hương Cau Cao Tân
on 27 July, 2019
in British Columbia, Canada
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