Vietnam to Sydney, a three-part poem (-1,971)

Part One

Drifts and shears in the sky, a near horizontal SO,

not much grass in this city of Sydney, wild (automobiles, steel scraper).

Aimlessly, I was plagued by war, by a series of

Yellow jacks around me, and here, now here I am,

Downtown Buildings party, the smells, fragile old buildings

be demolished in sight, not far from the Bay (city, say).

A park is used by my eighth-hotel level, leavesstripped of their branches;

at nightfall, the moon is high above the lake,

tail like a shadow. All week I spoke softly to the left: two to one hundred

Miles around to go back and forth, in this city.

The man is the heart of this city, the rudiments of the result: Born

War, eat, drink and die, the hell with the philosophy that there is enough noise ...!

What bothered me from Vietnam to Sydney (now know)

someone (who) has created a war and nailed him to theRefer to

carpenter just decent, it ever was. I know it must fall

Punishment for the face, but I said, not in Vietnam.

Part Two

On the hotel roof

I'm sitting here with no thought to the roof of my hotel

(as if living in a myth) observed in the shade:

Houses, boats, the shadows on the lake, with the scan

obsessively in a light gray of the moon ... A few birds fly over his head,

some forms ofDogs and cats from below seem dead pixel.

It is a pity that I have not yet (soon) will be back in Nam.

Dead, a new module called tired!

But I'm going through it ...!

A few birds drifting on the roof (spots in air)

define my future, I brush the dust from my mind;

Rain from the sea sucks in air through the roof.

A lady comes from that I met, is the night!

We jump from below the ceiling (inMorning)

like the grass of the sea and we both go, as seagulls.

(For my part, I do not tourniquet or grunts or go running, I will

Back in Vietnam ... the morning.)

Part Three

Back Home

(According to Minnesota from Vietnam)

When I returned to Minnesota, was the first day of my world,

I felt reborn: bitter coffee, beer, bitter, cold dawn

It 'was in the month of October ... How rare to be born a man, a secondTime;

Humans and animals have at this moment, I'm thirsty, too cold to snow.

Now, I had layers of meaning obscure.

This new world was just juggling, folk songs;

human tenderness was dry, the bones and meat only after:

No regrets, I was the sparrows canceled respect.

And so it was in Vietnam, a website with sad grass,

We had taken the rabbit ears, but we danced on the roofs

marshes, ways of thinking.

Vertebrae from the nostrils, ears Swatting flies with eyes like a drunk.

Note: Maybe this poem is long overdue, it's my first poem on Sydney, Australia, where I stayed for R & R, during my time in Vietnam, 1971. Now, after 40 years, I look back, maybe I feel that I have now is sufficient and able to absorb a part of it to express. I write about Sydney in one of the 35 books I have written, "where the birds do not sing", but not poetry. So I dedicated this to the Australian soldierstime military service in Vietnam, were brave, and my friend Ben Szumskyj, Australia.

((Poem of the Vietnam War) (1971))

Vietnam: As the ants in the rain

Confused, he turned into a tangle:

In a country full of voices --

The real men of war, I learned,

Here we had nothing other than thought

The memories in common: the best;

Everyone told us in our hearts

And ghosts

And without regret, we did our best

Insands of Vietnam.

And we all drank from one month to another,

Try to forget, or, in the cleaning of the house:

And before the end of the day

We scattered like ants in the rain --

Confused, spinning in

The nodes of the war.

Note: Each writing a poem about all the times that I like my time in Vietnam (during the war years, 1971). Being in the Mantaro Valley of Peru, the country of the Great Wanka Warrior take him out of me: I'm sure itunderstand my reasoning.

No: 1848 5-26-2007

Spanish Version

((Vietnam: A Poem de Guerra) (1971))

Vietnam: Como Hormigas en la Lluvia

Confused, envuelto en una Marana:

En una tierra llena de voces --

VERDADEROS hombres de guerra Conoco.

Aquí no teníamos Mas que nada pensamientos

Memorias en común, por lo mejor;

Y nuestros corazones abrimos

Y mentes

Y sin Arrepentimientohicimos todo lo posible

En las Arenas de Vietnam.

Y todos more bebimos un mes,

Olvido, or tratando de olvidar las galas de casa:

Y antes del final del día

Como nos dispersábamos Hormigas en la lluvia --

Confusos, Turning Dentro de

Nudos de guerra.

Note: Cada cierto tiempo me gusta escribir a poem sobre el tiempo que pase en Vietnam (Durante los años de guerra, 1971). Estando en el Valle delMantaro de Perú, la tierra del Gran Guerrero Wanka debo traerlo fuera de mí: Estoy seguro que ellos me entenderían razonamiento.

# 1848 26-Mayo-2007

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