The poems in Black Dog, Black Night highlight an aspect of Vietnamese verse previously unfamiliar to American readers: its remarkable contemporary voices. Celebrating Vietnam’s diverse and thriving literary culture, the poems collected here combine elements of French Romanticism, Russian Expressionism, American Modernism, and native folk stories into a Vietnamese poetic tradition marked by vivid imagery, powerful emotions, and inventive forms. Included here are 17 postmodern and experimental Vietnamese poets, including the founding editor of Skanky Possum magazine, as well as American poets of Vietnamese descent.

An excerpt from the introduction by co-editor Nguyen Do:

"Contemporary Vietnamese Poetry:
Invisibility and The New Horizon"


When I left my country to live in the United States to study English, my fellow poets asked when I would return. I smiled: I would be back but not until I’m able to translate my own poetry and that of other Vietnamese poets into English. Now that possibility—a new horizon—is coming true, but not only for me. A new horizon also appears for my co-translator, the poet Paul Hoover. Not long after I visited him and his wife, poet Maxine Chernoff, in their home, and read his anthology, Postmodern American Poetry, I also read the controversial diary of Vietnamese poet Tran Dan. These events prompted me to write a poem in English, which I sent to Paul for editing help. The result made me so enthusiastic and confident of our ability to work together. Why not make my dream come true by translating Vietnamese poetry into English with Paul, as long as he enjoyed it?
Since the “Renovation Movement” began in Vietnam in 1989, some Vietnamese poetry has been translated into English. But who was being translated, and for what audience? Almost all the poems translated up to now were written by government “insiders” such as Pham Tien Duat, Huu Thinh, Nguyen Duy, Nguyen Quang Thieu, who, masked as “veterans,” have had the privilege to meet with U. S. authors at the “William Joiner Center” in Boston, where translation and anthology projects between Vietnam War Veterans on both sides are encouraged and conceived. However, some of the poets invited to the center, such as Y Nhi, Nguyen Quang Thieu, and Xuan Quynh, were not veterans, while, in contrast, several important Vietnamese poets who were veterans, such as Dang Dinh Hung, Van Cao, Tran Dan, Huu Loan, Hoàng Cam, and Thanh Thao, have been excluded. Moreover, many other poets who have produced some of the most important contemporary poetry—new voices and especially new styles—have never received any recognition or benefits from the government. They are not veterans, nor are they privileged to be members of the Vietnamese Writers Association. Hoàng Hung, Nguyen Do, and Nhat Le are among this group. Barely able to publish in their own country, they have little chance for foreign recognition unless they do the translation work themselves. Why? In the United States, the concept of the literary “outsider” is well known and was popularized by the Beats. The history of contemporary Vietnamese poetry is similar but unfortunately much harsher. The country’s most valuable stream, the innovative “outsiders,” must struggle to survive in a world dominated by the more traditional “insiders.”

[skipping to the end]

Poetry without Borders

Poetry is poetry. If your poetry has quality, who cares if you are capitalist or communist? For a sixty-year period (1945-2005), seventeen poets may not seem much of a “Kingdom of Poetry” as some Vietnamese poets would call it. Nevertheless, it is a reasonable view of the range of contemporary Vietnamese poetry. This anthology is a retrospective of the best poems of the contemporary period from the oldest to the youngest, from those who have extended the “New Poetry,” or traditional style, to those who have created the current wave in Vietnamese poetry but are recognized as “outsiders.”
After so many years of confusion about the range of expression in Vietnamese poetry, I’m glad to bring its history to light for English-speaking readers. Now that the task is complete, I can smile happily and think of the Thanh Thao line that I love: “I’m silent as a coconut palm / that doesn’t know why it bore fruit!”