A Tiger's Longing for the Forest
Author:  Thế Lữ

Vương Thanh's translation of "Nhớ Rừng", 2019

Chewing on the chunk of angered hatred in an iron cage,

I lie lazily, watching the months and days pass by.

I despise those arrogant people, so foolish!

With their small eyes, 

they stare at the ancient forest’s dignified spirit!

Just a misplaced footstep, and then to be shamed and prisoned.

To be exotic eye candy, a toy for them to watch.

And have to bear being in the same group with those nutty bears,

and a couple of naive leopards in the neighboring cage.

I dwell forever in the longings and love

of the proud and valiant times of the past…

I miss the sights of the old forest, its large shades, and ancient trees,

and the yelling wind, the shouting voices that shakes the mount’n,

and the roaring of a dangerous and exciting long song.

I step my feet out, confident and proud.

My body like the sea waves rolling in grace.

My silent shadow dances with the thorny leaves, the sharp grass.

In the dark cave, when my eyes wide open, and I stare,

all the other animals become quiet.

I know that I’m the lord of all the creatures

that live in the ancient forest without name and age.

Where now are the moonlit nights by the brook,

when after an exciting chase, I drank in the moonlight?

Where now are the heavy raining days,

when I quietly watched my kingdom being washed anew?

Where now are the mornings, 

when the trees bathed in the sunshine,

and the birds singing joyfully while I slept?

Where now are those evenings

where blood poured in the back of the forest,

I waited for the burning sun to die 

so I can alone capture its secret?

Alas! Those glorious times are no more!

Now, I hold in my heart the bitter anger for ten thousand years. .

I hate the sights that never grow or change.

I hate those ordinary and fake decorations:

Flowers daily cared for, grass trimmed, straight paths, planted trees.

A puddle of black water pretending to be a natural stream,

creeping under the armpit of those lowly, emulated structures.

A few gentle bushes of leaves, without any mystery,

pretending to emulate the exotic wildness

of a dark and eerie place 

with thousand years of history.

O Magnificent Spirit, the majestic mountains and rivers

are the places where my venerated tiger race rules.

A vast place where I had many adventures

but a place where I no longer can see!

Do you know that on days of ennui,

I live a dream of being in my ancient home.

So my soul can be together with you,

O My majestic and venerable forest!