A long sleepless night, the meditation practitioner sits leaning on the window, waiting for dawn and recognizing the wondrous manifestation of “her” as a condition among conditions. Following that is the story of a lawyer who had an accident and was cared for by five girls in the family—Huong, Hong, Hoa, Thom, Qua—and in the end, he chooses Hong, who offers him the gift of “a thatched cottage—a golden heart.” Through this, the talk sketches the old society’s preference for sons (“one son is considered to exist, ten daughters are considered as nothing”), the examination process held every three years, the role of the “scholarly wife” supporting her husband’s studies, the scene of “a few yards of empty garden, a thatched house with a slanted roof,” and the dream of “the silk hammock of the future.”

Thay Nhat Hanh uses many poems and ancient folk songs—from the Chinese Book of Songs to Vietnamese folk poetry—to point out the illusion of dualism (coming/going, I/you). The truth of non-duality is illustrated through the images of

1. no coming, no going,
2. “one arrow falls, two illusory flags,”
3. seeking me is seeking you, seeking you is seeking me.
   At the end are twelve proposals for the 1000th anniversary of Thang Long, including:
4. Establishing Van Hanh University with the spirit of non-abiding, fearlessness, non-duality
5. Teaching ethics and citizenship at every level
6. An interfaith and humanist congress to draft a global code of ethics
7. A council of virtuous elders in every village
8. Amnesty for prisoners who contribute suggestions to the government
9. Tax exemption for the homeless
10. Sundays with only smoke-free vehicles, prohibition of alcohol and tobacco
11. Vegetarian restaurants and encouragement to eat vegetarian 15 days a month
12. Support for solar energy in daily life
13. Abolishing single-use nylon
14. A People’s Buddhist Congress separate from politics
15. Retreats to transform violence in the spirit of Van Hanh

The Lunar New Year evokes a longing for home—a place of warmth, happiness, embraced by love. Many people, whose childhoods were turbulent, have never truly had a home, but fortunately, the sangha can become a spiritual family, walking alongside our blood family to support and build each other up. The folk verse, “The bird flies back to the mountain as night falls,” reminds us not to sit idly when darkness comes, but to take care to return home.

King Tran Thai Tong, in the Diamond Samadhi Sutra, discussed “the myriad dharmas return to the one, where does the one return?” and through the koan, “The myriad dharmas return to the one, where does the one return?—The nine bends of the Yellow River,” shows that there is no distant path if we have the eye of wisdom: the nine bends of the river become a single airport in an instant. The gatha about the four mountains (birth, old age, sickness, death) awakens us to practice in the present moment to transcend suffering and return to our true home.

The list of three “homes” we need to cultivate right in this very moment:

• Our blood family and our spiritual family—two individual planets coming together to form a collective planet.
• Our body—the place that contains our ancestors and culture, needing care through mindful breathing and walking meditation so that body and mind are one.
• The sangha—a second home, a refuge for each other through the instrument of letting go of reproach, growing understanding and love, transforming the past and building the future.

Countless cells are dissolving, following the great intention of the turning cycle
destroying to become, birth is death, the fruit of life rises from each human body
look, the ivory skin is cracking, completing a lifetime without hesitation
the heartwood of the tree—who knows how many seasons—has wept and rejoiced countless times
sap surges higher with longing, earth and sky yearning for the fragrance to spread
petals about to unfurl in exquisite beauty, the bud transforms in a moment of samadhi

1. Cells dissolve so that new cells may arise—death is the foundation of life
2. The cracking bark (ivory skin) is like the painful cry of birth
3. Sap wells up in the tree, awaiting the moment the flower blooms
4. The instant the flower opens is a moment of “samadhi,” interweaving suffering and joy

I open the page of my heart, forever intact, never stained by the marks of samsara
tonight I offer a pure poem, praying for love to blossom in this life

• The “intact page of the heart” is equivalent to the “Bodhi mind,” a refuge so as not to be swept away by despair or hatred
• The pure poem is a prayer for compassion—love—to be born amidst a thousand sufferings
• Practice sitting in stillness, smiling, breathing deeply to offer freshness and solidity to mother, father, teacher, and sangha

The order has been given—Xuan Dieu’s epic (1945, age 28) proclaimed to the four elements:

1. Earth obeys first, giving birth to countless sprouts
2. Light performs miracles, hanging pearls and weaving threads everywhere
3. Water gently supports all beings, murmuring in resonance
4. Wind blows delicately, playfully bringing butterflies and flowers together

The first firecracker resounds, awakening a thousand hidden fairies, the sun tears through thin mist
Princess Xuan Nuong appears, dew hangs a million earrings, nine million young leaves
her festival lasts ninety days and ninety nights, joy shining through every dawn

The question mark envelops the entirety of human life: the seven-word quatrain by Vu Hoang Chuong consists of four lines, twenty-eight characters (the twenty-eight constellations), presented through the image of a snail crawling, its brain crushed, silent blood dripping, then an exclamation mark released, a nail hammered into the coffin to answer the human condition. The image of the snail symbolizes the questions: where do we come from, why are we born as humans, where are we going—these questions hover in the mind throughout life, never to be resolved by intellect alone.

Half a century later, in 1954, in the poetry collection Duong Tuong Phong, the poem “Prayer” still carries the heavy anxiety of rebirth, the darkness of the path ahead, a thousand autumns of karmic debt, surrounded on all sides, looking out to the shore of delusion, looking within impermanence yet not finding non-self. By 1963, witnessing Venerable Thich Quang Duc’s self-immolation for human rights, the poetry transformed into heroic verses praising brotherhood and compassion—especially in two poems:

• “The Fire of Compassion”: the auspicious moment, myriad hatreds and delusions open their eyes, beholding each other with boundless brotherhood
• “Continuing the Fire of Compassion”: the great courage and great strength of compassion will overcome bombs and bullets, the temple stands firm amidst the storm

At the end of his life, enduring much political misfortune, captured at the beginning of 1976, he still sat in unmoving meditation. This reveals a poet not only intoxicated by poetry, but one who had learned to eat vegetarian food, to sit in meditation, to return all doubts to the insight of the Zen gate, maintaining an indomitable spirit until the very last moment.

Today we read verse 3241 from The Tale of Kieu:
Reflecting, it seems all things are ordained by Heaven,
Heaven has decreed that we are born into this human form.
If destined for dust, then dust it must be,
Only those meant for purity receive their share of purity.
Heaven shows no partiality to anyone,
Both talent and fate are bestowed in abundance.
But what use is relying on talent alone?
For talent and misfortune are but a single rhyme.
Having carried karma into this life,
Let us not blame Heaven, whether near or far.
The root of goodness lies in our own heart,
A virtuous heart is worth more than three measures of talent.
These rustic words, gathered and strung together,
May bring a little joy for a watch or two of the night drum.
– in which is emphasized: 1) the doctrine of Heaven’s Mandate and destiny, 2) “talent and misfortune are but a single rhyme,” 3) the concept that the root of goodness and the heart are higher than three measures of talent, 4) the image of the night drum linking the beginning and end—“A hundred years in this human realm… May bring a little joy for a watch or two of the night drum”—expressing the fleeting nature of human life.

Continuing with the words of Nun Tam Hop discussing the fate of Thuy Kieu:
– though there is preordination, Heaven’s Mandate, and the karma of both collective and individual origins, each person is still responsible for their own choices (“There is Heaven, but it is also up to us”)
– three wholesome actions somewhat helped Kieu: maintaining precepts to avoid sexual misconduct, selling herself out of filial piety that moved even Heaven, and “harming one to save thousands” (killing Tu Hai)
– yet it was precisely the demons leading the way, ghosts guiding the path of self-clinging and view-clinging that bound Kieu to those “paths of suffering” until, upon reaching the very bottom, she encountered Giac Duyen—the conditions of awakening, of mindfulness opening up freedom and sowing the seeds for the journey of liberation.

The Tale of Kieu, in verse 3184, begins with the image of Thuy Kieu listening to Kim Trong’s promise to honor her deepest wishes: “heeding his words, she straightened her robe and fastened her hairpin, bowing her head in gratitude for his profound kindness,” and then she herself began to practice: “a worn body, yet she filters the muddy to reveal the clear,” thanks to her practice of transforming garbage into flowers. The foundation here is Kieu’s own practice and insight, while Kim Trong’s promise and understanding are merely supportive conditions, meant to help him maintain their shared aspiration. The concept of “mutual understanding” is explained as “a few heartfelt, intimate words” arising from the heart, creating deep understanding, and it is precisely the vow “to protect and shelter, lacking nothing” that makes him as the sky, the earth, the spring, the ocean—a condition binding him so he cannot turn back.

The Tale of Kieu also exposes the potential for art to poison the human heart through sorrow: the “Song of Ill Fate” once made Kieu’s heart break, but now, played again, it becomes a tune of joy and freshness, proving that “sorrow or joy is in this very heart.” From this, we see the essential need for the Fifth Mindfulness Training—practicing mindfulness in eating, drinking, listening, viewing, and consuming cultural works free from toxins. The image “remembering the vow to build a cloud hermitage, having trusted ones invite Master Giac Duyen” evokes the idea of the monastic being as free as a cloud or a crane, able to establish a hermitage with her younger sister for practice, but not caught in attachment. The story closes with the picture of a happy three-generation family, “blessings and prosperity in full, a thousand years of officialdom stretching on,” preserving the vow “from now on, even the string of sorrowful music will be avoided.”

Key terms:

• Filtering the muddy to reveal the clear: practicing to transform garbage into flowers
• Mutual understanding: deep understanding through “heartfelt, intimate words”
• Protecting and sheltering: the vow binding him as sky, earth, spring, ocean
• Ten five-word quatrains: the music of liberation, calling him to return his love to her
• The Five Mindfulness Trainings: the foundation of mindfulness in consuming music and culture
• Cloud hermitage – Giac Duyen: symbol of the freedom of practice, the teacher as a condition for enlightenment
• Blessings and prosperity in full: three generations reunited, abundant wealth and longevity

Sister Giac Duyen, during a walking meditation along the riverbank, accidentally discovered that the Trach Tuyen family was performing a memorial ceremony for her younger Dharma sister, who was still alive. A wave of astonishment arose upon seeing her younger sister, flesh and blood, in the midst of the funeral, leading to doubt: even as we walk side by side, “breaking reeds, parting grass in search, deep affection still harbors half a doubt.” The verse “Out of the reeds, already at the Buddha hall’s yard” evokes the image of transcending afflictions, returning to the place of peace, and raises the question: have we truly left the forest of reeds, or are we still lost within it?

The ten-character phrase “what time is now” (now – time / what time – time) reveals the wonder of the present moment: difficult to believe, hard to distinguish between dream and reality, past and future. To receive the miracle that is happening, we must light the lamp of insight—dissolving the mist at the alley’s entrance, parting the clouds in the sky—to see that “wilted flowers become even fresher, the waning moon surpasses the full moons of old.” Reading The Tale of Kieu as a practice of meditation in daily life, every moment is a miracle if we are awake and cherish it.

The reunion of the two sisters, Giac Duyen and Trac Tuyen, takes place right on the bank of the Tien Duong River, in a simple thatched hut beside a grass hermitage, marked by a life of simplicity and happiness:

1. cool breeze and moonlight caress the face, salt and pickled vegetables nourish the heart
2. vastness stretches in all directions, the tide rises morning and evening, clouds drift before and behind
3. past calamities are completely washed away

These verses emphasize a simple lifestyle, a letting go of fame and gain, seeking happiness in the present moment, in harmony with nature and the wind and moon.

The life of Trach Sinh (Kim Trong) is a series of tragedies over 15 years of separation from Thuy Kieu:

• she attempted suicide and fled from the Ngung Bich Pavilion, was deceived by Ma Giam Sinh and sold into prostitution
• met Tu Hai, was able to take revenge, save her family, and reunite in marriage, but then Tu Hai was defeated in battle, Kieu sold herself to redeem her father, and later became a nun at the Chieu An hermitage
• Trach Sinh passed the imperial examination, became an official in Nam Binh and Phu Duong, yearning to find traces of Kieu for many weary years
• after being reassigned to a post near Hang Chau, he heard news that Kieu had died, and set up an altar by the river to pray for her soul
• thanks to Giac Duyen’s guidance, Trach Sinh found Thuy Kieu again and the family was reunited:
  • husband
  • mother
  • father
  • younger sister
  • sister-in-law

In that moment, the whole family gathered together, bowing before the Buddha altar—a symbol of rebirth—to give thanks to the nun who had saved Thuy Kieu from the realm of death.

Today, let us spend about twenty minutes or half an hour contemplating the death of Thúy Kiều, for her fate was truly turbulent, and she had to truly die in order to be reborn. When Kiều had not yet reached the utmost depth of suffering and had not yet died, she could not be transformed; human life is the same—learning to die is learning to live. In the Zen tradition, we call this “dying and being reborn” in order to attain enlightenment.

When Từ Hải came to her private chamber to discuss whether to surrender or not, Kiều had already resolved her deep wish to be reunited with her family and to become a noble lady. All arguments were clever and reasonable, but only served to defend that profound desire, causing Từ Hải to be defeated because his defenses had been breached by two female spies. The three conditions Kiều set for Từ Hải’s surrender were all accepted:

• to be granted the title of marquis
• not to have to return to the imperial court
• to continue holding military command
  But then Từ Hải was deceived, with three armies lying in ambush at the moment of surrender, struck by arrows like a porcupine and died standing on the battlefield.

Amidst the storm of arrows and stones, Từ Hải tossed and turned, blaming Kiều: “My lady, you have led me astray.” The phrase “Phương Hạ’s loving call” was the court’s treacherous ruse, causing Từ Hải’s army to let down their guard and be relentlessly pursued and slaughtered. Kiều came to weep beside his coffin, determined to take her own life. Five years of roaming the seas and skies, in a single moment, her flesh and bones were shattered.

Giác Duyên—Kiều’s elder nun sister—came to the Tiền Đường River, preparing a thatched hut and hiring two fishermen to cast nets in order to save her sister. At the very moment she heard the waves of the Tiền Đường, Kiều threw herself into the river, but was rescued, still in a faint golden slumber, waiting to be saved. The nun Tam Hợp pronounced:

1. The “sorrowful register” has withdrawn your name, the “sorrowful poem” is repaid
2. Karmic debts have been balanced, past wrongs have been washed away, light and clean
3. Deep love repays deep gratitude, harming one to save thousands
4. Old affinities are fulfilled, future blessings abundant

Giác Duyên brought Kiều back to the thatched hut; from then on, the two sisters lived together under one roof, sharing mornings and evenings, with cool breezes and moonlight refreshing their faces, simple meals of salt and pickled vegetables nourishing their hearts, surrounded on all sides by vast, boundless space, with tides rising morning and evening, clouds drifting before and behind. That is the simple happiness of freedom and serenity when we can take refuge in the sangha and set adrift a raft of reeds to welcome someone to the shore of peace.

After Sister Giac Duyen bid farewell and left the Tu Minh Son region, Tu Hai and Thuy Kieu, within three or four days, took over five districts and a coastal area of the Ming kingdom, establishing an independent nation with Tu Hai as the Great King and Kieu as his consort. During five years of peace, Thuy Kieu served as an important political and military advisor, and her voice was always respected by Tu Hai.

The Ming court assigned Governor Ho Ton Hien the task of leading a special mission, bringing gifts and troops to offer amnesty. Kieu was influenced by two maidservant spies, who presented her with lavish gifts and persuaded her with words about filial piety and loyalty, expressing the hope of family reunion. She persuaded Tu Hai that surrender could bring about:

• an end to war, putting a stop to the countless nameless bones piled as high as one’s head
• national unification, fulfilling both public and private duties
• the opportunity to return to her homeland with the promise of a high title

Trusting Kieu’s words, Tu Hai agreed to set a date for disarmament, but as soon as the ceremony of surrender and the signal cannon sounded, the court’s army ambushed them—three ceremonial battalions in front, weapons behind. Tu Hai, alone, fought to the death, struck by dozens of arrows, and died standing firm like a bronze statue. Thuy Kieu threw herself to follow the great king in death, but was saved by the soldiers. Thus, Ho Ton Hien’s mission was fulfilled, suppressing the rebellion.

Poetry and the practice of meditation are always interwoven in the monastic life, from morning until night, from the brown robe to the daily rituals, the Offering Rice at Midday, and the Sharing of the Merit. As soon as a novice enters the temple, he memorizes the collection of essential daily gatha in classical Chinese called “Tỳ Ni Nhật Dụng Thiết Yếu,” which includes about 50 verses, beginning with the opening gatha: “May all beings attain the wisdom of understanding…” recited every morning upon waking up. The morning and evening practices, offering food to the Buddha, are also poems and gathas. The Zen masters of the Lê, Lý, and Trần dynasties all composed poetry, and the dialogues between teacher and student during the transmission of the mind seal and realization were often in verse.

From the golden rice fields on Tao Đàn hill in 1950 to the poetic inspiration 38 years later, the poet Tú Vũ—still living in Saigon, author of “The Flute Sound in the Autumn Evening” (195–) and “Pilgrimage” (1964)—has truly absorbed the Dharma, without needing to “build a bridge between the Way and poetry.” The Buddha was also an artist, creating the robe of blessings based on the image of fertile fields, and once, walking with Ananda along the seashore, when a fisherman spoke of the eight qualities of the ocean, the Buddha enumerated the eight corresponding qualities of the Dharma of Liberation.

1. The gathas of the novice in “Tỳ Ni Nhật Dụng Thiết Yếu” (about 50 classical Chinese verses)
2. “Thi Tứ”—the poem Tú Vũ composed in autumn as the leaves fell, offered to Thầy Nhất Hạnh, inscribed with respect… building a bridge of understanding between the Way and poetry
3. The eight qualities of the ocean and the eight qualities of the Dharma of Liberation (from gradually deepening, always ready to receive, not accepting corpses…)

Kieu is sharp and wise, possessing both beauty and intelligence, yet she is without affinity—lacking the wholesome conditions for happiness. This lack of affinity leads to a fate of misfortune, and with the added burden of love, Kieu finds herself “unable to rest in peace, unable to sit in stability,” “led astray by ghosts and demons,” having to “take a single step, yet travel a thousand miles,” and ultimately condemning herself for life, “living in suffering, dying in exile, enduring heartbreak until the end of this lifetime.” Tam Hop Lao Co points out two factors that lead to this result:

• Objective conditions due to karmic destiny—the will of heaven ordaining fifteen years of storms, hardship, and heartbreak.
• Kieu’s own way of handling things—not knowing how to take hold of her own mind, letting emotions, anger, and longing lead her into darkness, ultimately resulting in her suicide in the Tien Duong River.

Even in the midst of suffering, there are still glimmers of wholesome karma that guide Kieu toward the stage of saving herself:

1. Maintaining the precept of not committing sexual misconduct, not betraying Thuc Trong or So Khanh.
2. Selling herself to redeem her father—“selling herself in a way that moves both heaven and earth.”
3. Harming one person to save many—advising the killing of Tu Hai to end the war and bloodshed.

These three wholesome actions create a transitional stage, but are not enough for Kieu to be completely liberated. Giac Duyen appears as a condition for awakening, a ray of light from the bodhi tree 2,600 years ago—helping Kieu to hold onto mindfulness, release the bonds of delusion, and enter the post-suffering stage (when darkness turns to light), reuniting with Kim Trong, and finding peace in family life.

From the Tale of Kieu to the practice of daily life:

• Destiny and karmic force resemble the scientific theory of determinism—it seems that all outcomes are already arranged.
• Mindfulness—breathing in, knowing you are breathing in; breathing out, knowing you are breathing out—is the only path to break through the net of karma, opening true freedom in the heart.
• The Sangha is the environment that nourishes mindfulness, maintains the wholesome conditions for awakening, and helps gradually expand the “space” of freedom from a tiny seed into a great tree of peace.

Thúy Kiều wakes up in the middle of the night after a dream of meeting Đạm Tiên, struggling against the fear of a dark and uncertain future (verses 211–218). Alone, she hesitates through the long night, thinking of the distant road ahead, her solitude and fear vividly described; the more she contemplates her own suffering, the more waves of sorrow surge, and she sobs through the night. From this state of mind, the Dharma talk on transformation emphasizes the need to “invest” in friends and the sangha—like gathering firewood for the winter—so that each day:

• In the morning, offer someone a moment of joy
• In the afternoon, help someone suffer less

Thanks to this, when suffering comes, at least one friend who understands and loves us, who supports us, will lessen our pain and keep us from feeling lonely.

When reading The Tale of Kiều with mindfulness, we recognize every character within ourselves—from Thúy Kiều, Trác Tuyền, Giác Duyên, Thúc Sinh, Từ Hải to Hoạn Thư, Tú Bà, Ưng Khuyển—learning from their wholesome seeds and transforming the unwholesome seeds. In verse 2249 and onward, Từ Hải’s army beats drums to welcome the bride, surrounds the cities of Vô Tích and Lâm Truy, and brings Thúy Kiều back to the camp: crimson flags, war drums resounding; ten generals remove their armor in greeting, palace maidens welcome her to the bridal chamber; finally, the tiger canopy opens in the center of the camp, Lord Từ and his lady sit together to judge cases, and Kiều will first repay kindness, then seek justice.

Today we continue with The Tale of Kieu, paying attention to the comparison between Chieu An Hermitage in the original Chinese text Phong Tinh Luc and the Nom script version by Nguyen Du. The original text records the Vu Lan festival in autumn, with the golden bell and silver gong kept in Sister Giac Duyen’s private room, where only followers are allowed to see, and the event takes place between just two people. In Nguyen Du’s Nom poetry, the ceremony is held at the end of spring at Chieu An Pagoda, with the golden bell and silver gong displayed in the main hall, shown off to many noble ladies and young mistresses.

Thuy Kieu steals the bell not out of greed but out of fear of hunger, fear of homelessness due to delusion, not yet seeing the truth of “one bowl, a thousand homes’ rice.” The seed of fear, watered daily by the two instances of bell-stealing and the presence of Madam Bac Ba, prevents Kieu from skillful self-defense, leading to her being sold for 240 taels by human traffickers whose trade is “raising questions, placing words in the emptiness of space.”

• The drifting steps of Kieu’s life:
  1. Madam Bac Ba stirs up the fear of insecurity, plots to sell Kieu to a husband far away, proposing her niece Bac Hanh as the groom with a bride price of 20 taels of gold.
  2. Kieu agrees when Bac Hanh and the village guardian spirits swear an oath; trusting the oath, she sends her bundle of precious belongings.
  3. She is taken to a pleasure inn, handed over to the brothel, and appraised at 240 taels (twelve times the original sum).
  4. Suddenly, Tu Hai appears at the border pavilion, his heroic presence—“tiger’s beard, swallow’s jaw, phoenix’s brow, ten feet tall”—inspires Kieu’s trust; they become soulmates, hastily marrying with a seven-treasure bed and eight-immortal canopy.
  5. Half a year sharing the lamp and fragrant nights, they hear the “drumbeat shaking the earth” of revolution; Tu Hai tears himself away to leave, Kieu remains, embracing the “soaring pink wings,” longing for her parents, Kim Trong, and her younger sister, but her heart is heavy with confusion and turmoil.

Kieu’s feelings crystallize in six verses: longing for her homeland, sorrow for her parents, regret for her bond with Kim Trong, worry for her younger sister, restless confusion, gazing at the pink wings with no sign of her beloved.

The brown robe gradually turned the color of meditation – ever since Thúy Kiều wore the brown nun’s robe, we should consistently read the word T H I Ề N (Dhyāna). After a few months of practice, Kiều did not have a sangha or a stable guiding teacher, so her practice was only superficial: busy with chanting, burning incense, sweeping the temple to “cover her sorrow with the mat before the Buddha,” but she did not transform her internal knots. When fellow practitioners came, she could talk and laugh naturally, but when they left and she was “shedding pearls in solitude,” she would cry.

Lacking mindfulness and faith, Kiều violated the precepts:

• stealing the golden bell and silver gong at the Avalokiteshvara Pavilion
• lying to Abbess Giác Duyên about her background
  which led her to flee to the Bạc family and then fall into the brothel a second time.

A strong bodhicitta and solid precepts are the sources of energy to transform suffering and protect the practitioner. Ordaining is not to run away from suffering, but to transform suffering and bring joy to all beings.

The other day, we read up to verse 1525, “Who has split the moon in two…”, and discussed the classical Chinese anecdote: “Who holds the golden cup, divides it in two – half sinks in the water, half floats in emptiness,” where a young novice helps the poet Zhang Ji and the abbot Hanshan, relating to the poem: “The crows cry in the night, dew fills the sky… River maples, fishing lights, facing sleepless sorrow,” then hearing the great bell at midnight to complete the four lines:

1. The moon sets, crows cry, dew fills the sky
2. River maples, fishing lights, facing sleepless sorrow
3. Outside Suzhou city, the Hanshan Temple
4. At midnight, the bell’s sound reaches the traveler’s boat

Moving to verse 1705 of The Tale of Kieu, Thuc Sinh returns home and sees Kieu: “The water flows, the fallen flowers are at rest,” yet still believes she is dead. The night of serving wine to Kieu and Hoan Thu is a night of nightmares:
• Tall sails, straight ropes… the hounds and hawks plot their evil scheme, dragging her away…
• Dragged down temporarily to the gatehouse, still half asleep… Suddenly awakened from a yellow millet dream, where is home? Which mansion?
• In anger, a storm breaks… declaring, “This one is not a good person… let her feel thirty lashes at once.”

Becoming a Flower Slave, Kieu endures a chain of humiliation: “The Flower Slave is ordered to change her name… battered by wind and rain, her hair tangled, her skin darkened with soot.” The housekeeper “uses skillful words to open the path of compassion,” helping Kieu to lessen her indulgence in wine and sensual pleasures, and advising, “Know your place… if you must run, then let it be.” When Hoan Thu returns, the two serve wine; Kieu plays the lute, “the four strings weep and lament,” breaking Thuc Sinh’s heart. He stays awake “through five watches of the night,” eyes full of tears, and then Hoan Thu “opens the door of escape,” allowing Kieu to leave home and become a nun at the Avalokiteshvara Pavilion: “There is the Avalokiteshvara Pavilion in my garden… let her go there to keep the temple, to chant sutras… The blue robe is exchanged for the kasaya, her Dharma name is Trac Tuyen.” Practicing alone, “as if near the purple forest, as if far from the dusty world,” without teacher or friend, “the doors and locks are tight, the net is close, but the pearl falls in a deserted place,” her body still entangled in worldly debts, not yet truly attaining the Way.

Half a year in poetry turns out to be more than a year; Thuy Kieu truly lived with Thuc Sinh for a full year of happiness, from summer to autumn. When Thuc Sinh returned to visit his family, his father insisted on casting Kieu out, fearing the power of the first wife and the law of “family punishment,” causing Thuc Sinh to rather die than be separated. The district magistrate judged the case, issuing a pink warrant, stern as an iron face, forcing Kieu either to return to the brothel or to endure shackles; Kieu would rather bear the threefold iron yoke, her hands and feet bound, yet firmly declared she would not return to the path of flowers.

Hoan Thu, hearing rumors that her husband had rekindled his love with Kieu, devised a scheme of Lam Tri by land and sea, sending thugs by boat to capture Kieu and bring her home for a humiliating plot; she burned the upper chamber to hide her crime, creating the scene that Kieu had been tragically burned to death. When Thuc Sinh returned, he found only ashes and the memorial tablet “Vuong Thuy Kieu” in the shroud, lamenting his heartbroken love. Kieu was torn from the library, her body burdened with injustice; when a Taoist priest tried to summon her spirit, it did not appear, saying they must wait another year for news, and even if they met again, “they would wish to look but dare not look.”

Special terms and expressions:

1. summer (Thuc Sinh enjoying the coolness in the bamboo pavilion) and autumn (yellow corn leaves mingling with green branches)
2. family punishment (the threefold yoke: niệu, già, giới)
3. pink warrant (the magistrate’s order)
4. the crescent moon and three stars in the sky (the mood of autumn)
5. Lam Tri by land and sea (a month by land, quickly by sea)
6. black stain (a flyspeck on white paper, a blemish on black cloth)

In today’s lesson on The Tale of Kieu, after recalling the spring outing where Thuy Kieu encountered Dam Tien and Kim Trong, Nguyen Du portrays the inner world of the young scholar Kim—with his romantic disposition and the sorrow that “the more you shake, the fuller it grows,” a grief that fills three autumns though it is but a single long day. From Dam Tien’s dream, Thuy Kieu and her mother advise each other not to put too much faith in dreams, yet Kieu’s heart still floats on the love she has encountered, causing her to lie awake all night, so that the next day Kim Trong is passionately waiting and longing. The verse, “Such is the way of the sentimental heart. Who can untangle the silken thread to its end?” is set by Nguyen Du as the maxim opening the passage that describes Kim Trong’s love and suffering.

When a powerful current of love connects two souls, Kim Trong “returns again to his study window, with her image ever pressing on his heart,” “the more you shake, the fuller the sorrow,” staying up all night by the window, longing in dreams to meet Kieu. In the section where the two confide in each other, Nguyen Du uses images of layered clouds, rosy dust veiling every path, willow threads draping the curtain, the oil lamp burning low, the Tương curtain fluttering in the wind, the zither’s notes… to evoke a scene suffused with longing. When they meet under the moonlight, their vows are engraved in stone and gold, hearts united, the golden knife dividing a lock of hair, the cup of wine shared… so deep yet so fleeting, for after a brief day of promise, they must part in haste due to news of a funeral, opening the way for all the sorrows and wanderings to come.

Key points to remember:

1. Kim’s inner world: “Kim returns again to his study window / Her image ever pressing on his heart, hard to dispel”—a longing so deep it borders on obsession.
2. Images of love: layered clouds sealing the silken window, rosy dust along the path of willows, the oil lamp burning low, silken threads on the zither… all painting the portrait of longing.
3. The vow of a hundred years: “A lock of cloud-like hair, the golden knife divides in two / The cup of wine, voices mingling with precious fragrance”—vows engraved in stone and gold, yet “events had not allowed even a brief moment / Fate had not granted even a word to tie their bond” before they had to part.