Song Of An Angered Heart

Spring of 1968 brought Tet, the Mậu Thân New Year attack. War had come to the cities. We saw death with our own eyes, we touched death with our hands. Yet we were strangely indifferent at the sight of dead bodies lying in pools or on patches of dried blood. The young writer Lê Tất Ðiều wrote in a newspaper article: I no longer feel moved or fearful in front of a corpse!

I wrote an angry song titled TÔI KHÔNG PHẢI LÀ GỖ ÐÁ (I Am Not Stone Or Wood), dedicated to Lê Tất Ðiều.

TÔI KHÔNG PHẢI LÀ GỖ ÐÁ
I AM NOT STONE OR WOOD
(Saigon-1968)
I am not wood
I am not stone
So I cry for my Vietnam
No joy it has known for three generations.
I am not a stranger
I am not cold water
So I cry for those not that far away
Who fall on the battlefield in their prime.
Don't hide behind a song
Don't wear dark sunglasses
Look at this tattered country
Count the innocent dead
Feel anger at this fratricide
Weep inside when your tears are dry
Know sadness, know shame
For the country is still in darkness.
. . . . . . . .
I cannot be indifferent
I cannot stay silent
So I shout into the void
My voice more terrifying than the sound of bombs.
I cannot be mute
I cannot be deaf
So I'll cry and I'll be mad
Until peace comes!

I still called those angry songs born after Tet ''songs of the heart'', but the language is no longer gentle. These ''songs of an angered heart'' (also called chanson en cole`re) followed each other in close succession, most of them poems put to music, because my songs of the heart and the first few songs of anger created a stir among young poets and songwriters. Many antiwar poems and songs were written, such as the poems of Thái Luân, Tâm Hằng, Luân Hoán and the songs of Trịnh Công Sơn, Miên Ðức Thắng etc.

I put to musics poems such as NHÂN DANH (In The Name Of), BI HÀI KỊCH (Tragi-comedy), ÐI VÀO QUÊ HƯƠNG (Going Into The Motherland) which I called ''tâm phẫn ca'' (songs of an angered heart).

NHÂN DANH
IN THE NAME
from a poem by Tâm Hằng
(Saigon - 1966)
In self defence I must kill, I must kill
I must kill one man
In the name of myself, for a place under the sun
In self defence I must kill one man.
For my family I must kill, I must kill
I must kill ten men
In the name of happiness
For my family I must kill ten men.
For my village I must kill, must kill
I must kill a thousand men
For my race I must kill, must kill
In the name of this land
I must kill ten thousand
In the name of the beautiful Fatherland
For my race I must kill ten thousand.
Kill one million, I must kill one million
In the name of mankind's freedom,
I must kill a million
For mankind, I must kill
All of humanity
In the name of peace
In the name of peace
I must kill myself ! ! !

NHÂN DANH has had an English singing version by Steve Addiss:
ON BEHALF
From a poem by Tâm Hằng, adaptation by Pham Duy
English version by Steve Addiss
I've been told I must kill, must kill, kill one man, kill one man
For my place in the sun, for my defense, I must kill one man.
I've been told I must kill, must kill, kill ten men, kill ten men
On behalf of prosperity, for my family, I must kill ten men.
I've been told I must kill, must kill one hundred men, one hundered men
For my village, for my home, for the poor land I have owned, kill a hundred men.
I've been told I must kill, must kill one thousand men, one thousand men
On behalf of fatherland, for my nation I must kill a thousand men
I've been told I must kill, must kill one million men, one million men
Liberating all mankind, for my ideal, I must kill a million men.
I've been told I must, must kill
Everyone else, everyone else
On behalf of lasting peace
On behalf of lasting peace
Kill myself !

The second ''song of an angered heart'' is from a poem by Thái Luân:
BI HÀI KỊCH
TRAGICOMEDY
from a poem by Thái Luân
(Saigon - 1966)
The director raises his arm
The director drops his arm
The play opens
The play begins
An actor fires the gun
An actor falls
Blood flows into the earth
The land, the ricefields
The land, sun and moon
The land, sweet potatoes
The land, the good rice.

The director raises his arm
The director drops his arm
Here comes the next act
With a new setting
An actor tortures
An actor suffers
Facing each other
They look far away
Far away is home
Far away moms and dads
Far away loved wives
Far away children.

The director raises his arm
The director drops his arm
Here comes the next act
With new settings
The actors praise each other
The actors abuse each other
The four winds blow
Words of sweetness
Words of love
Words of music
Words of poetry.

The director raises his arm
The director drops his arm
The curtain falls
But it's not yet the end
The director laughs - or is he crying
The audience bites their lips
The audience is silent
The tragedy still goes on
On the stage and off
Above and below
Everyone is grieving
The director raises his arm
The director drops his arm
The curtain has fallen
But it's not yet the end.

This song has had an English singing version:
TRAGI COMEDY
From a poem by Thai Luan
Adaptation by Pham Duy
English singing version : Jane Pratt
Hand up that's the cue
Hand down that's the cue
Tragi comedy now begins anew.
Actor fires the gun
Other life is done
Blood now running down
Spilling o'er the ground.
The ground is the field
The sun and the rain.
The ground is the rice
The ground is the grain.

Hand up that's the cue
Hand down that's the cue
Tragi comedy, second act, new view.
Tortured out of hate
Actors bear their fate
Facing now they stand
Looking far away
Far'way is our home
Far'way Dad and Mom
Far'way is one's love
Far'way litle ones.

Hand up that's the cue
Hand down that's the cue
Tragi comedy, new acts and new views.
One spoke words of praise
Rude voice now is praised,
Wind blows everywhere
Listen hear it says :
It says words so sweet
Says what lovers speak,
It says melody
Speaks of Poetry.

Hand up that's the cue
Hand down that's the cue
Tragi comedy will still continue
Bitter actors weep, director's can't see
No one dares to speak
No one dares to breathe
The play still goes on
Theater's directors,
Actors, spectators
Together suffer.
CODA
Hand up that's the cue
Hand down that's the cue
Tragi comedy still continue...

A song of anger talked about the motherland:
ÐI VÀO QUÊ HƯƠNG
GOING INTO THE MOTHERLAND
from a poem by Hoa Ðất Nắng
(Saigon - 1966)
I go into the motherland with a roll of barbed wire
My father's fields I tie up tight
I dig trenches and plant needle sharp spikes
I raise my arms to claw and rip
I go into the motherland with a tractor
Transporting claymore mines and plastic
To be placed on the ribs of emaciated mother Vietnam.
Mother is shattered! Mother is ripped apart!
I go into the motherland with a stream of tears
Conjugal tears, parents' tears, children's tears
Friends' tears, brothers' tears
I swim, I wade in it till I'm exhausted
Blood flows from the head to the guts
I go into the motherland through the barrels of a gun
Fire burning in the village, in the hamlet
Fire burning in the heart
On my face grows an old tree
Weighed down with a crop of grenades and mortars
I go into the motherland with a singing troupe
Down with, long live... I stand up and play the clown
Stupid children laugh and spit
On my face, on my apron, on my head
I go into the motherland bringing as gifts
A Thompson gun, a communal rifle
One man per gun, let's bring them down
One gun per man, let's bring them down...

A song of anger talked about the Vietnamese soldier without the flattering, hero worshipping hype often used by the official propaganda machine. It was about the death of a young soldier.
NGƯỜI LÍNH TRẺ
YOUNG SOLDIER
(Saigon-1971)
The young soldier died last night
Stars and moon have disappeared
The young soldier died this morning
The sun did not come out today
The young soldier will die tomorrow
Riceplants will tremble in distress
The day after the young soldier will die
The gods will be in tears
The gods will run away
Love is the color of mourning
Beauty is gone from the beloved one
Words are lost in confusion
Men run naked back into savagery...
The young soldier died in the ocean
He didn't hear the beautiful ideology
He died by a pond
Not for the glory of any regime
The young soldier has died
The earth is about explode
The end of the world is nigh
THE YOUNG SOLDIER HAS DIED!

NGƯỜI LÍNH TRẺ has had an English singing version too:
YOUNG SOLDIER
Young soldier, he died last night
Stars and moon disappeared far'way
Young soldier just dies today,
This morning, there's no sunrise.
Tomorrow, young men will die
On our field, so is the rice
Day by day, young men still die
In our life, all men, they lie.

Every God will hide his face
Gods who cry or fade, no trace
Love is cold with mourning dress,
And finished, the youthfulness.
On my lute, strings are broken
In my book, words are forgotten,
Men, women, changing pattern
They go naked back to cavern...

Young soldier died in the sea,
He won't need ideology
Young soldier died by a pond
He can't hear no one respond.
Young soldier, he died... That's why
The globe soon explodes in the sky.
Young soldier dies, please remind:
It's the end of our mankind.
Young soldier, he died for who ?
And why ?

The death of youth caused universal anger: Sun and moon disappeared, riceplants were shaken, gods ran away in tears, guitar strings broke, written words washed away, naked men went back to savagery, then the Earth exploded and the end of time came! Anger turns to irony in the story of two soldiers (CHUYỆN HAI NGƯỜI LI'NH), and then in the black comedy of the Mother Of The Delta (BÀ MẸ PHÙ SA)
CHUYỆN HAI NGƯỜI LI'NH
THE TWO SOLDIERS
There were two soldiers who lived in a village
Both loved their fatherland
There were two soldiers who lived in a village
Both loved their land
There were two soldiers who were related
Both were of the Viet race
There were two soldiers who shared an ideal
To defend Vietnam
There were two soldiers who went away
To defend Vietnam
There were two soldiers who marched
Bearing hatred in their heart
There were two soldiers who marched
Hunting the ennemy
There were two soldiers lying by the fields
Holding their gun in wait
There were two soldiers, in the dawn
Who killed each other in the name of Vietnam

BÀ MẸ PHÙ SA(The Mother Of The Delta) might have been a true story, like BÀ MẸ GIO LINH (The Mother of Gio Linh), but with a touch of humor.
BÀ MẸ PHÙ SA
MOTHER OF THE DELTA
(Saigon-1967)
INTRODUCTION
Folks...
Listen to this story I have heard

There was a mother in the delta
She sat and counted on her fingers
All the changes that have come over her little hamlet
Nobody can say that our people lack strength
Yet day in day out they must live with terror
Few moments of joy in her fifty years
But never a complaint, she always lived with her heart.

Old mother lived in a grass hut
Nobody knew how much hunger and cold she had endured.
One day in August of sixty two
Cadre Ba came to the hamlet to propagandize
He said he had learnt
About the big Strategy that'll defend the village
And she nodded and thanked
But as he was laughing heartily
A gun went off in the nearby garden
She pushed him under the bed.

And she laughed happily
And welcomed the newcomer, his face is familiar
She offered him a cake
Asked after his health, said he looked like a nice man
Do mi fa, sol do mi fa
His name was Tu+, he was liberating the village
And she nodded and thanked
But then along the path by the ditch
The Americans were coming
She pushed him under the bed

CONCLUSION
So went the story, or half of it
Who knows who will save whom?
Who will save whom?

Songs For The DU CA Movement

Durint the time I was expressing anger, irony, bitterness and laughing defiance with my songs of the heart, songs of anger, songs of the street and songs of profanity, I was also writing happy songs for the DU CA (Itinerant Singing) Movement. An example was TRẢ LẠI TÔI TUỔI TRẺ (Give me Back my Youth) in which I said that youth must strive to find their idols in themselves, rather than looking elsewhere. In the middle of depression and weariness, I turned back towards youth... TRẢ LẠI TÔI TUỔI TRẺ
GIVE ME BACK YOUTH
(Saigon-1968)
Give me back my youth
When we were like riceplants singing
In the pouring rain, in the whriling wind,
Golden riceplants will always rise
Among the bombs, among the guns
Young rice plants rise over the smoke
Give me back my youth
Peaceful in war and in peace

Give me back my years of freedom
Free to follow ourselves, like sunflowers on the hill
Like young flowers looking for the sun
Looking for the light of glory
Like young shoots, like new steel
That make the earth shake when their voices answer
Like the young man of Phù Ðổng
Who stood tall as the sky when he rose.

Give my back my carefree young days
Free as birds in the forest
The forest was full of wild beasts
But we knew how to deal with them
Life's hardship would come one day
But laughing birds did not worry
Give me back the poetry of youth
Like an unfading dream

Give me back the passion of youth
We loved, never stopped loving
The more we had, the more we needed
Gave a lot and did not ask for much back
Love started out as a baby
And will lived until the end of the world
Give me back the madness of youth
Youth who lives and dies for a promise

Give me back the forgiveness of youth
We were like the cool ocean breeze
In the middle of a burning country
Weariness and scornfulness were everywhere
Ill may they speak
We still forgive in order to find faith
Give me back forgiving youth
When we knew how to keep hatred away.

Give me back my youth today
We are the lotus flowering in the mud
Here is Vietnam full of problems
But still having many cheerful faces
O Vietnam! There's still a voice calling
For love of the nation, for shouldering the burden
Give me back my idol
In our heart we inscribe our promise.

MÙA XUÂN DU CA (SPRING OF THE ITINERANT SINGER) also had this happy atmosphere:
MÙA XUÂN DU CA
SPRING OF THE ITINERANT SINGER
(Saigon-1975)
Spring is coming
To our new free life
The old life is mostly gone
The future is up for grasp
Let's sing the itinerant singer's song
A song rising from the white sandy beaches
A song rising from the golden fields
A song rising from the nation's people
A song to the beat of the heart of the land.

Let's play our guitar and sing in the dawn
With the fawn eyed young children
Wandering on the walks of life
Each verse is a dream
A lullaby, a wish
We sing of love for the young
A song rising from the white sandy beaches
A song rising from the golden fields
A song rising from the nation's people
A song to the beat of the land's heart

We strum and sing at noontide in the field
Or in the noisy factory
By the planting girl, by the old laborer
Who take a rest to listen wistfully
To the song of the poet
A song rising from the white sandy beaches
A song rising from the golden fields
A song rising from the nation's people
A song to the beat of the land's heart

In the evening I strum and sing with her
In the spring air, declaring our love
Sharing the gentle words
Of people united in love
For spring has just been born
And love is the song of tomorrow
A song rising from the white sandy beaches
A song rising from the golden fields
A song rising from the nation's people
A song to the beat of the land's heart

Then night comes, we sit side by side
Singing, with no need for a guitar
The echoes of life and love are all around us
Then we sleep with our dreams
A song like a gentle caress
The bird of dream is singing to us
A song rising from the white sandy beaches
A song rising from the golden fields
A song rising from the nation's people
A song to the beat of the land's heart.

---

Back to Overview of PD's Works