Chế Lan Viên sees the tower in ruins
[Inra]sara discovers the tower of sunlight
Thu Nguyệt finds it out as an exclamation mark
Only a tower but so many ways of awareness (and misinterpretation).

Sometimes
At midnight
I hear the tower growing horizontally in the sky.

The Sah Inu Tower lives its single life
The Double Towers live as a couple
In the valley of Mĩ Sơn, the towers form a great family
The Triple Towers walk in companionship
Thus they are complete, but the heritage is threatened with loss.

Like a dream, like a dazzle
the tower is present
Like a lightning, like an echo.

The tower provides journalists with a suject for an annual issue of Kate festival
(those who shed tears at every funeral)
Thus earning a little money for expense
And archaeologists an opportunity to cannibalize
A name.

The King of Champa ordered the building of the tower
Artisans (of course together with ten thousand workers) built the tower
Artist Đàng Năng Thọ paints the tower
The people of Champa climb to the tower on every Kate to worship the spirits.

The uneducated see the tower as tower
The educated still see the tower as tower
The poets see the tower as a bird.

Sometimes the tower remembers its apsara
The tower expects the visit of Shiva
They are all citified
Only the tower remains.

The shadow of the tower as the ghostly river
Stretches out through the night of dynasties
To awaken the memories of the peoples
With bonds (or even without any debts) to the tower.

With its eyes wide-opened, speechless,
The tower keeps silence in the colour of ashes
Silence without seasons.

The tower is drifting in the sunset
Suddenly it is stranded
Half-way on the hills
Seen by a friend of mine. Unexpected memory.

For 700 years the tower has roared with storm
For 300 years the tower has wandered in the plant kingdom
In a millennium the tower will talk to dust.

Many towers of Champa are flying in Sàigòn, Tokyo, Kabul
Over Happy New Year, among bottles of Black and White
Many green towers
are flying in the green night. I see.

The tower is fallen
The cry is echoing on the walls of night
Echoing in the heart of the bird asleep in the glory of fire
Awakening the cells in the drooped wings
The cry of midnight.

In summer the tower is lying naked
In winter the tower sleeps under a blanket of leaves
Without wings or arms – the tower stands in sunlight
Tomorrow all will fly together.

Translated by Nguyen Tien Van