Hồ Xuân Hương—whose name means “Spring Essence”—is one of the most distinctive and influential female poets in the history of Vietnamese literature. As a woman living in a Confucian society full of constraints, she asserted her voice through extraordinary poetic talent. Her poems, composed in the elegant form of classical Chinese lu-shih, are bold in content, employing double entendre and erotic innuendo to deliver sharp critiques of gender inequality, hypocrisy, and societal norms of her time.
The publication of Spring Essence marks a major milestone in introducing Hồ Xuân Hương’s poetry to international audiences. The work is presented in a tri-graphic format—featuring English translations, modern quốc ngữ Vietnamese script, and chữ Nôm, the calligraphic writing system once used to record the Vietnamese language for over a millennium. This is also the first time that chữ Nôm has been printed using moveable type, opening new possibilities for the recovery of a vital part of Vietnam’s linguistic and literary heritage.
The translator, John Balaban, a two-time finalist for the National Book Award, is one of the foremost American scholars of Vietnamese literature. He returned to Vietnam after the war to document oral poetry traditions—a groundbreaking endeavor that helped preserve Vietnam’s vernacular literary culture. Supporting the project is Ngô Thanh Nhàn, a computational linguist at New York University, who digitized the ancient Nôm script and made possible the technical foundation for this important publication.
Open access for educational and research purposes; commercial use prohibited.
At the Chinese General's Tomb -
𡑴太守
𡑴太守
𦗞眜𥉫𨖲𧡊榜撩
箕𡑴太守𨅸招𨇉
𠸠低𢷮分爫𤳇特
辰事英雄𪫧閉饒
Đền Thái Thú
Ghé mắt trông ngang thấy bảng treo,
Kìa đền Thái Thú đứng cheo leo.
Ví đây đổi phận làm trai được,
Sự nghiệp anh hùng há bấy nhiêu.
At the Chinese General's Tomb
I see it up there in the corner of my eye:
the General’s tomb standing all alone.
If I could change my fate, become a man
of heroic deed, couldn’t I do better?
Note
Hồ Xuân Hương has no reverence for the shrine set up by the peasants of Đống Đa to propitiate the spirit released by the violent death of Shin Yi-Tung (Sầm Nghi Đồng in Vietnamese), governor of occupying Chinese troops who, after losing to the Vietnamese in 1789, committed suicide. What a niggling thing, she suggests, if the General’s heroic endeavors merely resulted in a <i>ling-thiêng</i> (“vengeful ghost”) that scares farmers. She would have shared the Tây-Sơn scorn for superstition: “The dog is more useful than a genie,” quoted in Minh Chi, Hà Văn Tấn, Nguyễn Tài Như, <i>Buddhism in Vietnam</i> (Hà nội: Thế Giới Publishers, 1999), p.168