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.
The Lustful Monk -
詠師横淫
詠師横淫
丐刼修行𥗾𥒥㧅
為之没𫵀小樵消
船慈拱㦖𧗱西竹
債𩙋朱𢧚沛論繚
Vịnh sư hoạch dâm
Cái kiếp tu hành nặng đá đeo
Vị chi một chút tẻo tèo teo
Thuyền từ cũng muốn về Tây Trúc
Trái gió cho nên phải lộn lèo.
The Lustful Monk
A life in religion weighs heavier then stone.
Everything can rest on just one little thing.
My boat of compassion would have sailed to Paradise
If only bad winds hadn’t turned me around.
Note
The “little thing” that weighs down the monk and keeps him from entering the Western Paradise of the Amitābha Buddha seems to be his penchant for sex. It’s not exactly that this poem has a second line of argument, or a clear double entendre, but that obscene echoes unexpectedly seem to be trying to invade the poem, like the mind of our monk. Certain words in the text have obscene echoes. For example, <i>lồn</i> can mean “vagina,” not “to confuse” or “turn about.” Similarly, <i>đéo</i> and <i>lẹo</i> can both mean “copulate,” as can <i>trai</i> in <i>trai gái</i>.
Opposed to this set of suggestions is the Buddhist notion of perfecting oneself, centered around the perfection of compassion. The Mahayana symbol of the “boat of compassion” traveling to the western Paradise is a metaphor common even in the <i>ca dao</i> folk poetry. We also have a doctrinal echo from the very etymology of <i>pāramitā</i>, the Sanskrit word for “perfections” such as wisdom and compassion. <i>Pāramitā</i>’s root meaning is “to get to the other side,” to the opposite shore.