vietnamese
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Vietnam my home away from home.
The place where parents were born
From the loud motorcycle's horn,
To the vast street vendors across the town,
To the dreams I discover in the fields of rice,
If you really knew me
you would know that
I look at people the way you read a book.
If you really knew me
you'd see the way I tense up when
The legend of my people
Swept under torrents of napalm
Behind stars of lead
Drinking storms of Orange
Subsistence of my blood
Obscured by molding bread
By confabulations of scars
I am from straw hats,
From humid to dirty roads,
I am from Mommy’s and Daddy’s homeland,
(Saigon, the city where everyone
gathers.)
