Huu Dat - a talented writer

Try counting how many people in our country are both teachers and writers? And how many of them are writers capable of writing in multiple genres?"With a wave of her hand, the fairy can compose ten verses."He has a body of work encompassing novels, short stories, plays, essays, and poetry… and a large quantity at that (10 novels, 2 collections of short stories, 5 plays, 1 traditional Vietnamese opera, 1 collection of biographical essays, and now a substantial collection of poems), contributing in every genre like he has. His plays and traditional operas have been staged and performed, his novels have caused a stir in public opinion and been adapted into television series… Perhaps, I think, there aren't many people as talented as him.

Huu Dat has always prioritized writing prose. Now, entering his 60s, after experiencing joys and sorrows, traveling far and wide, and being busy with many jobs, he has decided to publish his first poetry collection. Once again, the richness of his genres further demonstrates his multifaceted talent.

The title of the poetry collection is "Travel," perhaps Huu Dat considers himself a traveler (he has used the words "traveler," "tourist," and "foreign land" more than once). While traveling across Europe and Asia for study, sightseeing, or teaching, he wrote poems to record his feelings, experiences, joys, and sorrows…

The first poem in the collection serves as his poetic manifesto:"Traveling far and wide, yet still remembering the image of my homeland, my heart yearns for words, deep within my soul."

It's possible to identify the "four places" that the "traveler" Huu Dat has visited, as they are all marked by his poems.

When I went to Russia, I wrote:"New Year's Eve in Moscow", "White Flowers"...; upon arriving in France, there was a poem:"Beside Versailles", "Spring in a Foreign Land"; passing through Belgium:"Visiting Fort Oateclo"; stopping in the Netherlands includes:"Through Amsterdam"...; there is a song in Cambodia"Sa ry ka keo"There are quite a few of these songs in China:"Dongchang Station", "Crane Tower Wharf", "Thinking of the Xiang River Wharf", "Crossing the Xiang River Wharf", "Remembering Cui Hao", "Remembering Li Bai", "Longmen Gate City", "Forbidden City", "Summer Palace"...

And especially during the six months he taught Vietnamese in Shanghai in 2010, Huu Dat wrote more than ever, in a state of sadness and loneliness:"Walking along the Huangpu River", "Visiting Shilongmen", "Visiting Shaolin Temple", "Walking on the streets"

"Soldier's Scene", "Alone", "Sad Sunday", "Night Away from Home", "Autumn Feeling", "Shanghai Rain", "Suddenly Awakened"…The saddest days are Sundays, when the foreign students have the day off, and the teacher is no longer busy with teaching duties, leaving him alone."Four cold rooms / Silent all day long / Only

I wander around alone / Flapping my wings / the sound of bats"(Sad Sunday) brings with it the lingering feelings of homesickness, longing for wife and children, that haunt my dreams. Only those who have traveled abroad, to a place without family or friends for an extended period, can truly understand the feelings of someone far from home.

Wherever he went, he always missed his homeland; even in the beautiful city of Moscow, he still felt sad."On New Year's Eve, my heart feels empty / Still the green sticky rice cakes / Still the pork sausage and sticky rice cakes / But Tet still doesn't feel like Tet / Lacking the taste of home / Spring seems not to have arrived yet."Upon encountering a cherry blossom branch in Russia, he suddenly felt a warmth in his heart as he thought..."The scent of spring lingers somewhere in our country."Listening to a Vietnamese song in a foreign land evokes a poignant feeling, as if home is drawing near.Hearing your teary eyes through the song, I suddenly see the shadow of my homeland somewhere nearby.Upon arriving in the Netherlands—a modern country with people as gentle as the earth—he was reminded of and felt affection for his homeland.The sea level is higher than the city houses, yet why doesn't it flood like in my hometown?Even in Shanghai—one of Asia's most prosperous cities—he never stopped missing Vietnam:"I'm living in the far north, yet my heart only sees the southern lands."...

Huu Dat has a special talent for painting portraits of characters through words. Previously, he gained fame for "painting" characters in prose through his collection of essays, "Literary Portraits," where he depicted each person with very distinct and accurate personalities, full of love and humor, no less impressive than Tran Dang Khoa's "Portraits and Dialogues," which caused a sensation. In this poetry collection, Huu Dat again creates portraits of loved ones such as his mother, brother-in-law, teachers, and friends… each portrait evoking deep emotion in the reader…

Each poet's mother is depicted in many different forms, memories, and recollections. Huu Dat is no exception, writing poetry about his mother. Read the poem."My mother"From him, I understood why Huu Dat could sing sentimental Cai Luong opera at festivals or when needing to vividly illustrate lectures on the subgenres of theater; I understood why he could compose Cai Luong operas and even Cheo and dramas; and I also knew that the artistic talent of scientist Huu Dat was inherited from his beloved artist mother: ...My dear mother, you bid farewell to the life of an artist, returning to be a farmer. (...) The stage is empty without your presence, friends lack your love, and the audience becomes bored. Without you, who will sing cải lương (Vietnamese traditional opera)? (...) A half-lifetime career left unfinished, your love for me is gone. The dream I carried from that time flies away with the vast full moon.

In the articleMeeting an old friendThe author's poignant pain conveyed a sense of sorrow to the reader; I suddenly felt a profound sadness upon encountering the following verses:

"Just a few years ago you came to Russia / Meeting me at the gate of Lomonosov University / Your hair was a dark, ink-black / Your smile was carefree and youthful / Decades have passed in a flash / The path has been marked by many twists and turns / You no longer have the black hair / as before / Your smile / has withered with the years / You read less and less each day / You hear / only half a sentence / Human life passes by quickly / Autumn remains the same forever / The golden moon is still capricious / Passing before you and me".

The author doesn't specify whether this is a boyfriend or girlfriend, but I think it could be a female friend. A girlfriend would describe the hair and smile, right? Whether a boyfriend has black or gray hair doesn't matter; it's a woman with gray hair that's "problematic." A 60-year-old man isn't considered old, but a 60-year-old woman is. A 40-year-old woman can still call a 60-year-old man "brother" without feeling awkward, but she can't call a 60-year-old woman "sister"—she has to be called "Miss" to be proper (?). This friend, decades ago, was probably a bright student who studied at Lomonosov University, youthful with "ink-black hair" and a carefree, innocent smile… And now she's a woman with gray hair, a faded smile, and dim eyes:"Read a little bit each day.", my ears are deaf:"I only caught bits and pieces of what I heard."…Oh, nothing can resist the eternal law of "birth, aging, sickness, and death," "Human life is like a fleeting shadow." Huu Dat concluded the poem with this philosophy.Life passes by so quickly / Autumn remains the same forever / The golden moon is always capricious / Passing before you and me."...Reading this poem, I suddenly thought of the story of an old queen who, afflicted with illness, resolutely refused to see the king, refusing to let him see her face, hoping that her youthful and beautiful image would still remain in his memory. And should people, when they are old, meet their former lovers again?

Some poets have written about their beloved sisters-in-law, but writing about their brothers-in-law is quite rare. Huu Dat's brother-in-law was once a soldier. He had a distinctly soldierly demeanor:"Walk with your feet, speak with your mouth, work with your hands.", is a human being"simple"His purpose in life is to know"love"and"We cherish two words: living with honor."He was beloved by his wife's parents and regarded by his wife's siblings as a role model, like someone who took care of his younger siblings in place of their parents. Even though he is no longer with us, Huu Dat's affection for his brother-in-law is truly admirable.While alive, he was our brother-in-law / After death, he became the star Khuê / Our parents are no longer here / His shadow guides us on our way.The poem is simple yet conveys to the reader the author's warm and heartfelt family feelings, reflecting a strong sense of home. A harmonious extended family with strong traditions and values ​​always produces individuals who are beneficial to society.

In his poems dedicated to his teachers, although the names of the recipients are abbreviated, such as "Respectfully dedicated to Ms. D.Th.H, Ms. LHS, Ms. H.Th.CH; Respectfully dedicated to Mr. HTPh, Mr. NXL…", we can easily guess the names (even if he doesn't explicitly mention them). These are extremely famous educators whom Huu Dat has depicted with remarkable accuracy, revealing beautiful personalities and lifelong dedication to students and the research of the Vietnamese Social Sciences and Humanities. However, the personal lives of some teachers were sometimes difficult, arduous, and full of hardship… Some teachers remain lonely in their old age, some are homeless at eighty, and some have worked their whole lives without ever being awarded an academic title by the State (but the title bestowed by students and the people is truly an honor and a great honor!). Huu Dat himself, as a teacher, always remembers these people. My teacher taught me, "When you eat the fruit, remember the person who planted the tree." You are the embodiment of a beautiful character, morally upright, and considerate of others.

Some teachers are mentioned in prose in the collection:Literary PortraitsThis is mentioned again in this poetry collection. This shows that Huu Dat deeply cherishes, respects, and holds special affection for the teachers who have made a profound impression on him during his student and teaching career.

In the articleThere is a belief(Dedicated to Teacher HTPh), the portrait and demeanor of the Teacher are clearly revealed as if he were a flesh-and-blood person, and I immediately recognize him as Professor, Doctor, People's Teacher - my beloved teacher:

Still with the flowing hair of youth / Still with the radiant smile of springtime / At eighty, still driving to class / Two or three sessions a week / Hands twirling like an artist / Voice rising and falling like the melodious sound of a kite's whistle / Feet gracefully moving like a slender crane / Shadows fluttering over the lesson plan for each section…

It can be said that the genre of "portrait" poetry, and especially "portraits of teachers," is a "specialty" of Huu Dat's poetry.

Huu Dat has demonstrated the spirit of "self-criticism," "social warning," or "facing the truth" of a patriotic citizen through several articles in this section.The writer's voiceFrom the Literature and Arts newspaper. In this poetry collection, that spirit is strongly promoted in poems about social issues:"Father's words," "Where is the village?", "Love for our country," etc.

How heartbreaking it is to read the following sentences:

After the reforms, my hometown was desolate and impoverished. The fields were not cooperative, shared by the village. Labor exchange groups produced two crops each season. When harvested, all we had was a little sweet potato.(My mother).

With the articleWhere is the village?He was deeply troubled and pained that "village culture" had disappeared in the era of "market economy," gradually losing its rural atmosphere."tiled roof", "well"; lives are gradually disappearing"Poor but clean"Although they worked hard, they also had moments of leisure."Standing by the temple gate to enjoy the cool breeze"Now, farmers are selling their land to build mansions, buy things, indulge in lavish lifestyles, gamble, and then lose their land and their livelihoods as vegetable and rice farmers. They become penniless again, forced to wander in search of a livelihood.

…Everyone boasts about the money from selling land/ Compensation money, profits divided among them/ Then happily buying and building/ Everywhere you go, there are villas and mansions/ A new habit of extravagant spending/ With so much money, who still wants to grow vegetables?/(…) Generations of young people like city life/ Addicted to gambling and betting/ Restaurants spring up everywhere, from the beginning to the end of the street/ Prostitutes sway under the lights/ The old village of yesteryear is no more/ Many families have lost their livelihoods and have to wander far/ The night is deep under the open sky/ The millionaires of yesterday are now homeless…

In the articleLove your countryHe couldn't suppress his sorrow when he saw that the people were not only suffering from the consequences of war, storms, floods, fires, traffic accidents, and rising inflation, but they were also unjustly treated and miserable because of corruption and ineffective projects. But with the kind nature of a true artist, who never shouts or causes trouble, he still had faith, so even though..."My heart aches, yet I still sing songs of love"...

His poetry is beautiful because of its heartfelt sincerity and the serious, exemplary nature of a teacher, not because of arbitrary, playful innovation in form. He is not the type of poet who chases after surrealist, postmodern, or symbolist artistic movements… Therefore, his formal innovations in many poems are still based on traditional poetic structure; even with varying line breaks, they remain verses belonging to the rhyming and metrical genre. For example:

How many months and years have passed?

in the diarychest

On drizzly mornings

stillThis

Look at the cold stone wall.

pig intestinessuck

How much I miss my homeland!day

(The city of Versailles)

Call me

I don't see you.where

just listen

cramping

sorrowpainfulsilently

(Wild Rain)…

His poems use quite a lot of Sino-Vietnamese words such astraveler,a foreign land,memories, the mortal world, wandering, spirituality, the earthly realm, homeland, women of the martial world, universe, family background, ancient temple, Longmen City, Forbidden City, Hanoi…it should have a formal, antique color scheme that suits the nostalgic and reflective content…

Although there are a few lighthearted poems like "Old Friend," the dominant tone of the entire collection is one of somberness, melancholy, and contemplation…

That thoughtfulness is expressed in the skepticism, questioning, contemplation, and reflection found in verses such as:Why are great men so humble? Is this all the achievement of a thousand years has to offer?(Visit Fort Oateclo)A thousand-year-old fortress crumbles / Yet poetry still evokes sorrow after ten thousand years?(Reflection)O people of the world, why do I see hardship everywhere in this human life?(Walking on Quang Linh Street)I am all alone, all alone / I achieve nothing in this vast sky.(Alone),What will you think when you sit on a pile of money / As the years pass and your parents are no longer here?(Father's words)The thread of fate connecting the two has been broken / Can the pain ever be healed?(Bitter greens)...

In this collection "Travel," Huu Dat is very conscious of innovating in form through a number of poems shaped like cups, bows, water towers, stacked towers, diamond-shaped stacked towers, arrows, etc. These are also experiments of quite a few poets, both old and new. Previously, Tran Huan Chuong had experimented with triangular poetry in his poem.DarkFrom 1936 onwards, Nguyen Vy experimented with rhombus and zigzag-shaped poetry, along with many poems in novel forms such asRain showers, sunsets, temple bells…But perhaps it was only with Huu Dat that formalist poetry reached its peak, and it seems that behind each creative form, each poem also contains some hidden content, a unique message of poetry.

Huu Dat primarily writes prose, but he has also achieved remarkable success in poetry. While the dialogue in his novels is sharp and powerful, the language in his poetry is graceful and gentle…

The beauty of his poetry lies not in trying to appear different in form, but in the resonance of the heart. When Huu Dat is moved, he will move the reader; when Huu Dat trembles, he will make the reader tremble; when his verses touch upon the memories, nostalgia, contemplation, and anxieties of the reader, then he succeeds. I like poems like...Crape myrtle flowers, By the old town, Remembering the old school, Autumn breeze, Full moon night in the suburbsvery romantic with those lines"On the full moon night, I long to be loved / By the moon, the wind / And all the trivial things..."

Perhaps due to the influence and admiration for certain poets of the New Poetry and Revolutionary Poetry movements, his poetic rhythm sometimes reflects the rhythm of those who came before him. For example:My soul is like the eucalyptus flower / Rich in fragrance, yet intensely captivating.(...) keeps making me think of the sentence:My soul is like the wildflowers / One windy afternoon, they clung to your dress.(Nguyen Binh) or:You - a wildflower on the cliff, drinking in the night dew throughout the four seasons.It keeps reminding me of the rhythmic pattern in:I will be a flower on the mountaintop / My petals will forever retain their fragrance throughout the four seasons.(Vu Cao)… That is something we also find in many other poets when they write in the same genre.

His poems, the ones he wrote later, became even better…

I think he truly deserves the title."A talented teacher"or "A multi-talented Associate Professor and Doctor."...I'm sure even the most critical person would agree with me if I said that!"