Evening falls
Leaves asleep by the hillside
She, a slender beauty in white dress,
Looks at Heaven’s Gate, shrouded in smoke and mist…

Night temple gongs waken peony flowers
Four misty seasons, filled with longings for the homeland!
The wind gently sways bamboo branches
Her dress gently flows like sunset clouds…

Evening passes by
White clouds drifting in loneliness…
Calling on Poetry Spirit
She’s absent!

The ancient moon of legends traverses across the sky
Voices of the hidden heart float in the night
Anything left in this remaining age?

Still there’s the moon on the mountaintop
Still there’s the clouds in the distant horizon
Quietly hearing from afar the echoes of the sea,
And Mother’s voice singing lullabies to me…

Since I had left that autumn,
My heart’s been calling out to Vibrant Spring,
to the Sunshine Season of United Hearts Gathering…
The Vietnamese people,
From all corners of the world,
Fragrant with scents of Buddha’s teachings,
Coming together in Love and Peace.
O April ! How I miss my homeland …
When will it be reborn again?

Evening falls
The temple gongs sounding from afar…
Watching clouds drifting at the seaside
Love for homeland ebbs and flows like the tides

Translated by Vương Thanh

Cửa trời sương khói, khói sương

Chiều nghiêng
Lá ngủ ven đồi
Em nghiêng tà mộng
Cửa trời
Khói sương…

Chuông khuya
thức đóa Hải Đường
Tiếng chim hót…
bốn mùa sương
Nhớ Nhà!
Gió lay cành Trúc la đà,
Áo em tà mộng…
thướt tha mây chiều

Chiều đi,
Mây trắng cô liêu
Gọi Thơ,
Thơ vắng!
Gọi chiều,
mông mênh…

Ánh trăng huyền thoại,
lênh đênh!
Tiếng lòng ai gửi…
Cuối ghềnh gió bay…

Còn chi cuối vận hội này
Còn Trăng đầu núi,
Còn Mây cuối trời
Âm thầm tiếng vọng trùng khơi
Mang mang…
Ơi tiếng, Ru hời,
Mẹ Ru…

Con đi từ đó Mùa Thu
Gọi Xuân Hồng,
Gọi Nắng Mùa Đoàn Viên
Trời Việt Nam Ngát Kinh Hiền
Lời Kinh tha thiết Bình Yên quê nhà
Bốn phương về hội Thái Hòa
Tháng Tư! Lại nhớ xót xa quê mình
Bao giờ Quê Mẹ hồi sinh
Tháng Tư Khẩn Nguyện An Bình Quê Hương

Rưng rưng… Lá Nhớ,
chiều sương
Kinh Chiều âm vọng bốn phương, Nắng Hồng

Chiều nghiêng
Chiều nghiêng thu không…
Tiếng thơ rơi rụng! Bụi hồng gió bay
Tình Quê, Ý Bút vơi đầy…
Có người ra Biển nhìn Mây… Nhớ Nhà!

Tuệ Nga

I don’t fully understand Dekine’s poems—even a simple one like “Paris, 2019”:

I lost control
following cigarette processionals, in and out,
of a freedom-spatting
mausoleum head. I love

James Baldwin.

There are entire worlds
in his words. My heart became
a jade toad, croaking fire. I leapt—
followed e smoke.

I can’t figure out “e.” In any rate, I read through the collection once.

I love the elegant, book-inspired typesetting on Harvard Law Review.

Since Biden won the presidency in 2020, I have been liberated from politics. I haven’t paid attention to politics. I haven’t discussed politics. I haven’t blogged about politics.

Despite all the attacks, Biden has passed essential legislations. He got us out of the pandemic. His biggest victory was beating the whiny little bitch and he will do it again.

Biden has announced his 2024 reelection bid and both sides have criticized him on his age. I am sure Biden will make it to his 90s so let’s just stop the ageism bullshit. I will vote for him over that orange shit any time.

If, God forbidden, something will happen to him during his second term, Kamala Harris will be more than ready to step in. So let’s also stop the sexism. Again, I would pick President Harris over the piece of shit on the other side any time.

I must confess. I have many thoughts on my mind; therefore, I haven’t been able to focus. I read through Gabriel Ojeda-Sagué Madness, but I could not pay attention to the poems. Since the collection is selected from 1976–2035, the poems are too ahead of my knowledge.

Is the night gone yet, that the sky’s hurrying to show its lights.
A flock of birds carries the coming season on little wings in flight.
An autumn evening, I went to send her off…
Returning home, feeling sad and chilly…
Leaves on tree branches falling,
each leaf gets flown far, far away…

On the night of parting, what sadness keeps you silent.
I only hear you telling me ever so softly,
that it’s really late and time for me to go home.
The day was dreary, transporting the evening into night.
I force myself to smile, but my heart’s already in tears…

An ethereal night of moonlight and stars.
Stars filling the sky, each twinkling brightly.
A poetic mood comes upon me.
Taking my soul back to the road of memories…

Are we apart yet that my heart’s feeling desolate.
The road ahead, wide and windy, with just only me.
Drunken with wine, but my soul already in frost.
Leaves on tree branches,
the last leaf, falling, gets flown far away…

Translated by Vương Thanh

Chiếc lá cuối cùng

Đêm qua chưa mà trời sao vội sáng
Một đàn chim cánh nhỏ chở mùa sang
Chiều vào thu tiễn em sầu lạnh giá
Lá trên cành từng chiếc cuốn bay xa…

Đêm chia ly buồn gì sao chẳng nói
Chỉ nghe em nói nhỏ trở về thôi
Ngày buồn tênh cũng đưa chiều vào tối
Mím môi cười mà nhớ thương khôn nguôi

Mộng tràn ngập đêm trăng sao
Sao đầy trời từng chiếc lấp lánh
Rồi một chiều xuân thơ trinh
Cho lòng mình về với dĩ vãng

Xa nhau chưa mà lòng nghe quạnh vắng
Đường thênh thang gió lộng một mình ta
Rượu cạn ly uống say lòng còn giá
Lá trên cành một chiếc cuối bay xa

Tuấn Khanh

The title of this rom-com says it all. The romance between Sinh (plays by Scott Ly) and Amenda (plays by Rachael Leigh Cook) takes the backseat to the travelogue. It’s cheesy but beautiful, which is perfect for a Sunday rainy afternoon.

Steve Eder and Jo Becker write for The New York Times:

Since the rebranding, the law school has developed an unusually expansive relationship with the justices of the high court — welcoming them as teachers but also as lecturers and special guests at school events. Scalia Law, in turn, has marketed that closeness with the justices as a unique draw to prospective students and donors.

I am surprised that the NYT reporters take this long to discover the connections between Scalia Law and the Supreme Court.

“À ơi,” the sweet voice of gentle Mother
Her lullaby warms even the mountains and rivers
Mother’s love is beautiful and pure
With fragrant hands, she opens thousands of history pages
O Mother, O Mother Vietnam
Your love’s in a thousand melodies of lullabies
You teach your children to be just and compassionate,
to remember their roots and heroic ancestry.
Vietnam’s like a sad river branch with many twists and turns;
The moon dimmed, the water murky, the poor people, the bloodsheds…
Now, Mother’s voice is low, deep and sad
The two abysmal dark regions, a single source of suffering
Gentle Mother with shining virtue like a mirror
Her Flower of Compassion grows in her children’s garden
Mother sings a wonderful lullaby
Mother sings a lullaby of Love of Flowers and People…

Translated by Vương Thanh

Lời ru Mẹ Việt Nam

À ơi! Lời ngọt Mẹ hiền,
Tiếng ru ấm cả ba miền núi non
Mẹ tươi lòng ngát như son
Tay thơm Mẹ mở ngàn trang sử vàng.
Mẹ ơi, Mẹ hiền ơi. Ơi Mẹ Việt Nam
Tình thiêng muôn sợi tơ (ơ) đàn Mẹ rung
Dạy con nghĩa núi, tình sông
Dạy con nhớ gốc, khơi dòng liệt oanh
Nhánh sông sầu mấy khúc quanh
Trăng mờ, nước tủi, dân lành máu tuôn
Giờ đây tiếng Mẹ trầm buồn
Hai miền u tối, một nguồn đau thương
Mẹ hiền đức sáng như gương
Hoa Nhân Ái nở trong vườn con tươi
Mẹ ru, Mẹ ru tiếng hát tuyệt vời
Mẹ ru, Mẹ ru, Mẹ ru tiếng hát Lòng Đời Ươm Hoa…

Tuệ Nga

Kudos to all the leaders and parents for making the camping trip fun, engaging, and valuable for all of us. I also appreciate the feedback to help improve our next trip and reduce wasted food.

As I said briefly in our meeting, all the adults should step up to take the leftovers home. I wouldn’t mind taking home the extra eggs, but I wouldn’t be able to turn them into delicious flan like Chị Trâm Anh did. In fact, I have been eating bún all week.

As for the leaders, please don’t take it too hard on yourselves. I definitely appreciate transparency, but oversharing can be overwhelming. With all the emails flooding my inbox, I have trouble keeping up with all the information. I am absolutely fine with not getting emails that don’t involve me.

We are grateful for your dedication and contribution to our Cub. It’s a labor of love and I can’t do what you do. So please keep up the great work, my leaders!